


Passion and Potential

by Regularity



Series: Carol Danvers: S.H.I.E.L.D. Intern [4]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Woman (Comic)
Genre: Canon-adjacent, F/F, Gen, Pre-movie AU, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2021-04-09
Packaged: 2021-04-22 13:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 109,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regularity/pseuds/Regularity
Summary: Carol Danvers has been an intern at S.H.I.E.L.D. for over a year now, and it is spring of 1991. She is thriving in her S.H.I.E.L.D. internship and her job at Emma Frost's ice cream shop, but none of that matters compared to her fear that she'll never see Jessica Drew again. Her best friend turned girlfriend has been gone for nearly a year getting experimental treatments for an illness that wants to kill her, and hasn't been able to make contact since Christmas.Carol must deal with the straining effects of the various figures and circumstances that continue to swirl around her in this 3rd installment of Carol Danvers: S.H.I.E.L.D. intern. Mutant activity in Boston, troubling disappearances at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and more will find Carol Danvers. Is she ready to rise up to meet them?
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau, Carol Danvers/Jessica Drew
Series: Carol Danvers: S.H.I.E.L.D. Intern [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284980
Comments: 29
Kudos: 77





	1. All Systems Red

Carol Danvers hears a sound she’s never heard before this day.

Howard Stark is actually angry at someone. He’s, in fact,  _ yelling _ .

She’s been doing this internship for well over a year now, and not once in all that time has Howard Stark lost his patience. Not once has he done more than gentle ribbing and correction.

And yet as she enters the control room above the quinjet hangar, she hears his voice over the intercom from down below, “The next time you break my jet, just do us both a favor and resign.” Dr. Weaver is grimacing at every word from her vantage at the control console up here with Carol.

Carol looks down below at the hangar to see what’s going on. The young mechanic that Howard is dressing down is wide-eyed while his coworkers stare on, equally confused. Howard tosses to the ground a metal motor casing that has been positively shredded, to the point that Carol isn’t even sure recycling will do any good.

Howard continues, “What does Lawson even have you doing, that you thought it was a good idea to leave this compartment unsecured while cycling up the backup engine?”

The young mechanic starts to stammer, but Howard bowls over him. “You don’t know, do you? Lawson’s gone for five minutes and you cost us $50,000.”

He goes pale at that number as Howard wipes grease on his very fine suit jacket, then scowls when he realizes what he’s done. He looks at the group of mechanics and shrugs. “Just get outta here, why don’t you? I’ll fix this and you can explain to Lawson later why you took me away from my project to fix your mistake.”

The engineers and mechanics clear off the hangar floor, turning off machines and shutting down for the day, obviously relieved to be getting away from someone who can fire them for no reason at all, and he apparently has good reason today.

Carol watches for a minute while Dr. Weaver runs final diagnostics and sighs. “I never thought I’d say this, but Howard Stark needs a drink.”

“No kidding,” Carol says. Dr. Anne Weaver’s opinion of Carol has improved over the last year, and while Carol doesn’t really care for this woman’s approval, it has made her intern life on base a little easier. The passive disapproval from Dr. Weaver is somehow worse than Dr. Susan Storm’s active dislike. At least Dr. Storm would tell you why she had a problem with you.

Carol watches him take his suit jacket off and throw it in the incinerator, then rolls up his sleeves and leans under the jet’s wing, fixing whatever the mechanic broke. “Why is he even here? He gave the quinjet to Wendy last year.”

Dr. Weaver says, “ _ Doctor Lawson _ is off-base, as you know. Mr. Stark had to step in when the mechanics triggered an alarm and didn’t know how to shut it down. They weren’t even supposed to be cycling engines today, which is why I wasn’t here to oversee any tests until they almost blew themselves up.”

Carol listens to this explanation, knowing the reason that Wendy is gone, and ignoring Dr. Weaver’s not-so-gentle correction of how to address her. She hasn’t seen much of Howard lately, and the last few months have not been kind to the old man. He’s drawn, and has lost a little weight, and his mustache droops.

“I’ll go down and assist,” she says. “Surely his favorite intern would be welcome.”

Dr. Weaver shrugs. “Suit yourself. You know how to reach me if he suddenly decides to start running tests on the quinjet again.”

Carol heads down to the hangar, where Howard mutters and yanks free a panel off the side of the quinjet’s underbelly. 

“It’s got to be a tough day when Howard Stark dresses down a mechanic,” she says flippantly, removing her jacket and heading for her coveralls as Howard jumps, banging his head on the wing and swearing.

But he sees it’s Carol and comes out from under the jet, rubbing his head and trying to smile. “You heard that, huh? Been a while, Danvers.”

Carol strips her boots and gets into her coveralls while Howard nurses his head and maybe his wounded pride. 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come out of your tech cave again.” Dressed for the job now, Carol offers Howard a rag. “That’s the most expensive grease monkey suit I’ve ever seen.”

“What can I say? I wear more lab coats than coveralls these days. You know Lawson’s been in charge of this for the last year, and she says you’re damn close to bringing it live.”

“If you don’t mess it up under there again,” Carol jokes, but Howard stiffens and shrugs. Okay, not the best time to joke.

Howard sighs, wiping his hands and tossing the cloth back to her. “I figured Peg would have shipped you off elsewhere since Lawson’s off-base.” Off-base and maybe even off-world. The Kree woman is especially cryptic on purpose and it infuriates Carol not to know what she’s doing. Running tests is all she’ll say.

Carol shrugs. “I haven’t seen Director Carter in a while, either. You all have just given me the run of the place, you know?” That Peggy Carter was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and let Carol go on believing she was just in charge of this facility still rankles Carol. One of the most powerful people in the intelligence community--in the entire world--and Carol was treating her like just another middle manager.

Howard shakes his head, lifting the panel up and over the wing, laying it as flat as he can. Carol helps him hold it in place while he inspects it for damage. “I guess Peg’s got bigger fish to fry, kid.”

“So do you, apparently,” Carol mutters, not intending it to be heard.

“Hey, what’s that talk?”

Carol tenses up. “Sorry. It’s just I spend more time with your son than I do you, and you’re supposed to be like, my mentor or whatever.”

Howard laughs at that. “I think we both know I’m not mentor material, Danvers. Lawson and Peg do for you well enough, don’t they?”

Now Carol shrugs. Lawson definitely does, but not in any capacity that Howard knows about. “Yeah, but you’re the one who brought me in. I’m supposed to be learning at the heels of a titan of industry and tech, and this is the most we’ve talked in months.”

“You’ve only been here a few months,” Howard says, banging out small dents in the panel with a tiny hammer. 

Carol grunts at that. “It’s been nearly a year and a half.”

This seems to genuinely surprise Howard. “Really? Feels like yesterday I was catching some silly punk girl in a place she’s super lucky she didn’t get shot for being.”

“It was still the ‘80s when we met.”

“Ah, the ‘80s. May we never again live through a decade as weird as that.”

Carol chuckles. “All the synth rock and new wave is probably a bit much for your old ears.”

“Hey, who’s old?” In response, Howard’s back creaks ominously as he lowers the panel back to the ground. “Something something my sciatica.” He rubs his back, getting more grease and soot on his used-to-be white dress shirt. 

Carol grins, but it doesn’t last long. She’s never seen Howard upset like he was, so she tries to do that thing people do for their friends. “So look, I’ve never seen you blow up at anyone the way you ripped that grease monkey a new asshole.”

“Language.”

“Sorry. Mechanic.” Howard lets slip his own little grin.

“I’m frustrated, is all,” he says, putting the panel back in place and reattaching it while Carol holds it there.

“About your new project?” His shoulders sag. “Maybe it’ll help if you talk about it? Not specifics if it’s all classified and stuff, but just talk around it?”

Howard is silent while he’s riveting the panel. After the last rivet drives home, he looks at Carol with something like defeat. Not exactly. Carol has no idea what defeat would even look like on this man’s face, but this is close. 

He says, “Nothing to really say, kid. It’s like trying to hold water in a colander.”

“Are you inventing a jetpack?”

“Someone beat me to that a decade ago.”

“No shit? Do we have one?”

Howard laughs. “I’m glad you’re here, Danvers. And no. Well, maybe. The storerooms have a LOT of wild in them.”

Carol makes a mental note to go joyriding on a jetpack someday. “So what is it? A new energy source? Anti-gravity? A bomb bigger than the Death Star?”

“Nothing like that. I’m working on something smaller, more personal.”

“And it’s going poorly.”

He nods. “You’d think I could figure it out with better tech than we had in the ‘40s.”

Something from the ‘40s. “Is it another one of those crazy vibranium shields?”

Howard shakes his head no. “You’ll get no more from me on the subject.”

Something from the war? Carol’s mind swims with the possibilities.

But Howard interrupts her, “And hey, what you said about Tony? Is he good?”

Tony, Tony, what did she say about Tony? “He is. Not exactly close with him, are you?”

He shrugs, going to remove another panel. “We’ll get back there someday. What college student has any time at all for his father?”

“You don’t think it’s weird that he spends all his time with high schoolers?”

Howard’s mustache twitches in amusement. “He isn’t, but I see your point. And if you and Hank McCoy are anything like the rest of the students in your school, then maybe he  _ should _ be spending all his time with you.”

Carol blushes. The first meeting that Hank had with Howard Stark, at a dinner party, is one of Carol’s favorite memories. She’s never seen Hank at a loss for words more than in the presence of one of his idols. 

Thinking to downplay them since one is an alien and the other a mutant, she says, “We’re nothing special, Howard.”

But he is having none of it. “There’s a difference between humility and ignorance, Danvers, and I don’t have time or patience for either one.”

And Carol has nothing to say to that, for once. 

A couple of hours later, Howard dismisses her to go back to his usual project, though the diversion seems to have been good for him as he whistles on his way out of the hangar. What could he possibly be working on?

Heading to her car, Carol spots Airman Melinda “Goose” May tossing a bag in one of the black sedans everyone on base seems to have. Carol calls to the woman and waves, walking over to her, but May only smiles briefly and waves back before hopping into the sedan. The door’s slam shut has a finality to it that stops Carol short. The sedan roars to life and May drives off. Is everyone just having a bad day on base today? And where is May going? Probably some weekend excursion to another Air Force base. The Airmen are always coming and going. 

Carol still spars with May on occasion, but mostly their interactions come in the form of the experimental jet that Dr. Lawson is working on. Not the quinjet, but the other one. The special one. 

She shrugs off the cold reception and drives home by herself in the old beater of a family car, wishing she had time to go hang out with Maria and Monica, or maybe Tony. But finals are coming up and she needs to study.

Well, maybe not need. But she should, just in case.

When she arrives home, she scarfs down a quick bite of leftovers, ruffles her brother’s hair, listens to her father crow about the Red Sox’s big win against Toronto or some such nonsense, watches a few minutes of the local evening news about suspected mutant activity and a string of burglaries in downtown Boston, and then heads to her room to study.

Her bedroom has changed somewhat in the last year. Gone are most of the punk posters--replaced by a small grunge band known as Nirvana, and Nine Inch Nails--though Sioxsie and the Banshees persists. Gone are the many peppy and sporty clothes that a younger Carol Danvers might still have worn. A framed poster of Amelia Earhart hangs above her headboard.

Carol sits down and opens a book, but her eyes catch the little Care Bears figurines that Jess sent her over Christmas. Their ragged and disheveled nature was endearing at first, but now Carol sees them as a critique of her long-lost relationship. It withers and decays in absence. It rots on the bone.

Carol’s birthday is in two days. Jess made contact around her own birthday in December. Maybe she would be able to again.

Or maybe she’s truly dead now. Maybe the Care Bears were a fluke.

Carol’s despair manifests into anger. She lifts a small framed photo of Jess and Carol, where Jess’s lips are on Carol’s cheek, and Carol’s red-faced blush and averted gaze is all too obvious to her now. She always remembered it as it being a cold day and she was flushed from the Massachusetts winter, but that was naive. They were 14 in this picture, and Carol suddenly cannot look at it anymore, at their bright-eyed enthusiasm for each other, for the future. Before Jess was very sick. Before Carol got mad at the world. When they could have loved each other without all these barriers in the way. 

She slams it facedown on the desk hard enough to crack the glass, and forces herself to stop thinking about it, though of course that hardly works. She manages to distract herself with other thoughts, like what embarrassing songs Maria is going to make them sing at karaoke on her birthday, and what kind of ridiculous party Tony is throwing for her this weekend. Anything but Jess, because Jess hurts too much.

After an hour of tortured studying, Carol yawns and puts her books away. She gets ready for bed, and as she’s laying down, the facedown photo catches her eye, and the anger in her heart swells. What kind of  _ asshole _ is she, that she blames Jess for her own absence? Carol goes back to her desk, lifts the photo of her and Jess, and stares at it. At the girl who loves her more than life itself. And feels shame that she could be angry at her for this.

She kisses her fingers and places them over the picture of Jess, willing the girl to forgive her. To come home. To send a sign.

And of course no sign presents itself. She blinks back tears that desperately try to surface. She sets the photo back down, facing up, and lays back down. 

At least in sleep, she might see her Jess Drawed. 


	2. It's Hard To Feel Good When You're So Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol's birthday is today! She has plans with Maria Rambeau after their ROTC, but she's not expecting the argument that leads her straight into the flames of an enemy.

Carol receives a card and a cupcake for her 17th birthday. The card is from her parents, the cupcake is from her brother, Steve. The card contains $100, which surprises Carol, and the cupcake contains chocolate, which is all that really matters.

Carol hugs her brother, thinking that he may yet outgrow her. He’s closing in on driving age now, too, but Marie Danvers--Mari-Ell of Hala, a Kree soldier hiding on Earth--has yet to tell Steve about his extra lineage. Being half-Kree is currently a bonus with no downsides--increased strength, mental conditioning, a healthy constitution against Earthborn sickness--but that could change any day. All it will take is one scientist somewhere discovering how to detect Kree to put Carol’s family in hiding or on a watchlist.

But Steve doesn’t need to be burdened with this knowledge quite yet. Maybe when he’s 16, like Carol when she found out. Sweet sixteen, baby brother, oh hey you’re also part alien for the galactic equivalent of Alexander’s Great Macedonian Army. Welcome to adulthood, life is shit no matter what solar system you’re from.

Carol receives a few presents from her friends at school. Hank gives her a fancy new pen that actually needs ink refills, instead of some basic BiC. Kelly gives her an Alice in Chains’ CD, and laments Carol’s taste in music. The girl continues to be friends with Carol, in spite of their polar opposite approaches to life and Kelly’s other friends constantly teasing her about her dyke friend. 

Carol hasn’t told Kelly or Hank or anyone at school the truth, but the rumors have been going around too long and she’s starting to think it’ll be better to just embrace it and get it over with. She can handle the vitriol, and Jessica’s not around to deal with any fallout.

But every time she has an opportunity to be truthful, to honestly tell someone the reality of her relationship with Jess, her mouth dries out and her tongue sticks to her roof, or at least that’s what it feels like. She goes silent and ashamed that she can’t live this truth.

She’s got her internship after school, but today’s a Hanscom Air Force Base day, proper ROTC. She hates these days as much as she loves them.

She enters Hanscom and heads to the training area, where Maria Rambeau waits for her, along with a dozen other boys roughly their age, all in officer’s training. Carol got bumped up to their class as part of her secret S.H.I.E.L.D. internship, but Maria doesn’t seem to hold it against her.

“What’s up, Flygirl?” Maria asks, and Carol answers, “Us, someday.”

“Someday us,” Maria finishes the greeting. They bump fists and Carol stands beside her best friend, shoulder to shoulder.

“Happy birthday. Hope you’re ready to sing the songs of your people.”

Carol shifts uncomfortably. The songs of her people are probably all war anthems and propaganda. 

“If you say pop, I’m cutting you.”

“Pft. I’m talking about that sweet hair metal. Yelling into the mic and calling it singing.”

Carol laughs and bumps Maria with a shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do karaoke? Can’t we, I don’t know, pick up garbage on the highway or something?”

“Hey, you agreed to this months ago. I’m not hearing it now.”

“Who else is coming?”

“Actually it’s just us tonight. When’s the last time we did anything without the boys hanging on our every word?” The boys in this case meant Tony, Rhodey, and Hank. And, weirdly, sometimes Hank brought along John Proudstar from work, AKA Thunderbird, AKA the mutant that tried to kill Carol and Hank once upon a time.

Boys are weird.

“Speaking of the boys, Rhodey joining us today?”

He’s been around as something of an assistant drill sergeant for a while now, but Carol secretly thinks the brass have figured out he and Maria are dating and rather than make a big to-do, they’re just quietly reassigning him.

“He’s got finals at MIT, remember?”

Right. Real finals, not just AP classes in high school. Tony and Hank have been in study sessions a lot the last few weeks. Carol also secretly thinks they’re probably just drinking and having a good time away from the girls.

“Sure, sure. You’ve been together almost a year now, yeah?”

Maria shifts uncomfortably. “In about a month, yeah.”

“That’s right. You got all secret boyfriend on me right as my--as Jess was leaving.”

Maria’s eyes narrow. “You know, it’s been almost a year since she left, and you never stop bringing her up.”

“She’s been my best friend since before we could properly read.”

“Might make your current friend a little jealous.”

Carol feels awful about that, but she can’t help how she feels. “It’s not the same.”

“I know, I know. It’s just--you’re here, now, and she’s not. You can love and miss your friend without making the rest of us feel like we’re just poor substitutes.”

Carol tenses up. “I know that.”

“Well, act like it.”

“Jesus, back off."

Before Maria can react, the drill sergeant comes out and sends them in to change. Today’s a day of running, and pushups, and maybe if she pushes herself hard enough, she’ll forget about her argument with Maria. Every time Maria tries to say something, Carol ignores her or cuts her off.

But the longer the day goes, the madder she gets. Jess is alive, and she’ll be back, and it’s not fair to ask her to just not bring her up. What if she demanded that Maria couldn’t talk about Monica anymore? What if Rhodey couldn’t gush about Maria? 

She twists herself up until she’s in no mood to sing or have a good time. Until at the end of the training day, she’s sweaty, exhausted, angry, and needs to burn off even more energy. Kree blood means she’s got some to spare, even after a hard day of training.

When they’re in the changing room, just the two of them, Carol looks at her. “I’m gonna do something else tonight.”

“You’re really gonna bail on me, on  _ your _ birthday, because you can’t live in the now.” Maria finishes drying off from a hasty shower and Carol goes in to grab a towel and change.

Maria says, “You’re being ridiculous, Flygirl.”

Carol calls over her shoulder, “I’m not interested, Rambeau. You don’t talk shit about Jess, end of conversation.”

Maria’s got her civvie clothes on when she comes back into the showers, rubbing a towel through her kinky hair. “Hey, I’m not the one who can’t be bothered to call you and say one damn thing about how I am.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Carol shoves her legs into her jeans and reaches for her shirt.  “She can’t, I told you that.”

“Right, ‘cause she’s off in some secret experimental treatment somewhere. You get a postcard? A phone call?  _ Anything _ ? You say she’s alive, and I believe you. She’s a tough cookie. But what does that say about her if she is?”

“It’s not just a secret. It’s--” Carol shuts up, pulling her jacket on and lacing up her boots. 

“It’s what? Are you sure you’re not just lying to yourself, Danvers?”

“Why are you being like this?” Carol demands, getting in Maria’s face.

“Because I’m tired of being a second class citizen in the world of Carol Danvers.” Maria doesn’t back down, and stares into Carol’s eyes with anger and something else. Pity? Frustration? 

She continues, “You’ve got so much energy wrapped up in a girl who doesn’t have the time of day for you anymore.”

“That’s not--”

“And you have your secret internship, and are friends with a billionaire, and you have a good job for a high schooler, and you’re on track to fly long before they ever give me a look at a cockpit, and you can't appreciate any of it because of her.”

Carol opens her mouth to shout back, but Maria bowls over her, “I told you once I couldn’t be what Jessica is to you, but you’re so god-damned absent you barely let me try.”

“I’m in love with her, okay?!” And there it is. Maria’s face is the absolute picture of shock. Carol doesn’t know what to say, but she can’t stop herself.

“She’s gone and she might never come back, and we only just found out how much we needed each other, how much we loved each other, the day she left. She’s alive, and she’s coming back to me, and if you can’t handle what I am, what she is to me, then I guess we’re done.”

She’s at the point of tears, and she never lets anyone see her cry. Only Jess. She hasn’t cried in so long.

Silence lays fallow between them. Maria drops her towel and doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, so she crosses her arms and backs away. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“Maria--”

“I said a minute, Danvers. I’ve uh… I need to get home and check on Monica.”

She gathers her bag and leaves Carol standing in the locker room with all this emotion. All this anger and pent up rage. Maria has been her best friend since Jess left, but now what is she? Just some flygirl she used to know?

No karaoke tonight. She needs to go beat the living hell out of someone.

The streets of Boston are alive on a Wednesday night. She hits the bar district around School Street and Tremont, and there’s more than enough midweek partiers that she’s sure to find someone to rumble. Someone who deserves it, or even nearly deserves it.

A purse-snatcher, or some jerk who thinks he can feel up a woman in a bar just because she’s had a couple of drinks. The college crowd is thick. Perfect.

But an hour passes, two, and even though the night is rowdy, no one does anything untoward that she can see. She wishes Hank were here; he’d know where to find crime.

Or maybe not, since he’s playing all goody mutant.

It’s not until the night darkens towards midnight and Carol will be grounded for breaking curfew that she spots some activity.

She runs toward the sound of a scuffle in an alley, hoping to find a couple guys in a fistfight. As she approaches the corner, though, the darkened alley lights up with bright, redhot flame.

The scuffling sounds turn into screams and yells. Three street toughs, clothes singed and hair smoking, barrel out of the alley, pushing past her, yelling about a fire witch.

And Carol grins more fully now. Please let it be her.

Oh please let Firestar be making a terrible mistake tonight.

Carol turns the corner into the alley, and finds Angelica Jones--AKA Firestar AKA the other mutant who tried to kill her--helping a thin young man to his feet and dusting him off. His hair is disheveled and he’s got a bloody nose, but otherwise he looks okay. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Carol says.

Firestar turns to her and grins broadly from beneath her gaudy red mask, her bright yellow bodysuit practically a beacon in the dark alley.

“Carol damn Danvers, as I live and breathe,” Angelica Jones says, standing next to the injured man.

“You saved this guy? Not the other way around?”

The guy stutters, coughing. “Uh, thanks, for, you know, stopping them. Are you one of those muties I keep hearing about on the news?”

Firestar shakes her head. “Best not go around telling people that, I think.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Carol says.

“You think you’ve got a monopoly on helping people? Hey, you, we’re done here. Scram.” The guy nods and shakes his head in bewilderment, muttering about crazy women. 

Once he’s gone, Carol leans against the brick wall in the alley, staring this brazen woman down.

“Hank said you’re all laying low. He won’t even come out on the vigilante nights anymore.” The vigilante nights where Carol does anything she can to distract herself. To keep herself occupied instead of thinking about Jess.

Firestar shrugs, idly playing with a tiny ball of flame in one hand, rolling it like a contact juggler up her arm, across her chest, and down her other arm.

“So what do you do? Set fire to petty crooks between whatever mind heists Emma Frost has set up for you?”

“You’ve got us all wrong, ice cream girl.”

“I really don’t," Carol shoots back.

“We're not the X-Men, sure, but we're also not the Brotherhood.”

"You expect me to believe a group secretly calling themselves the Hellions are out to do good? Especially after what you did to me?"

"I don't expect you to do anything except be annoying sometimes." She shrugs her shoulders and sighs.  “I’m just bored, Danvers. You know how hard it is to be able to do this--” She lifts into the air on a pillar of flame just as a young couple walks by the alley. They clock her in a blaze of fire hanging in the sky and disappear faster than Carol can throw a punch at Johnny Storm.

“--and then  _ not _ do it? It’s agony.”

Carol admits that effortless flight would be pretty awesome, and she’d never stop if she could. She shakes her head. “So you’re out here, doing good deeds, because you’re bored of breaking the law? I repeat the first thing I said to you tonight.”

Angelica Jones chuckles, coming back down, letting her flames flicker out. “More or less. The death of adventure is boredom. I’m just passing the time.”

“So you’re the one causing all the ruckus on the news.”

She shrugs. “Complain when I get caught on camera.”

Carol can’t believe this woman. She’s a couple years older than Carol, but she’s got an impetuous streak that makes Carol’s inability to control her tongue look like a wizened elder.

And yet, she’s letting off steam. And Carol’s had a few close brushes over the last year, going out on her own, getting into fistfights and gang brawls. Her Kree heritage has kept her alive through the worst of it.

“What’s that smile for?” Firestar asks. “You want to tumble?”

“I’d love nothing more than to knock you on your ass again,” Carol says, but Firestar only shrugs.

“You’re off-limits. Emma’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

“And you’ll disobey her about mutant activity, but not when it comes to me?”

“I don’t know. It took a few days for my jaw to stop clicking the last time. Call it learned behavior if you want.”

Carol chuckles. It feels good to laugh this way. “You know…”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve heard what else is on the news lately?”

“The labs getting hit?”

“That’s not you, is it?”

Firestar scoffs. “I already told you, you’ve got us all wrong.”

“Then  _ someone _ is breaking into labs all over Boston. You wanna scout one out?”

Firestar grins and then giggles. “Just like that? You hate me and now you wanna partner up?”

“Come on, we could fight a real thief, not just these bullshit toughs.”

Behind her mask, Firestar’s eyes gleam. She calls up a candle flame that dances down her fingertips, like a slinky made of fire. “Let’s do this, Cheeseburger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this was going to be a fluffy birthday chapter and it uh didn't go that way XD  
Next time, Carol teams up with Firestar as they attempt to catch a thief plaguing the science labs around Boston.


	3. Orange Flame Banishes The Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Angelica Jones team up for a night of vigilante justice, in which they scout out a laboratory Angelica Jones thinks is a target for the corporate thefts that have been going on in the city; the duo will see some action before the night is over.

Carol and Angelica teaming up is probably the very last thing Carol thought would ever happen, but Carol just wants to do anything at all to get her mind off Jess, off Maria.

Off the endless gut-churning worry.

And Angelica--codename Firestar--seems like she’s telling the truth. Just blow off some steam by helping those in need. It clashes with what Emma and the Hellions have done to her, to Mar-Vell, to Melinda May.

Squaring this hexagon of complication proves fruitless, and she lets it go. 

Angelica whistles as they walk. Her yellow suit hides under a trenchcoat the color of burning coals, and her mask is tucked away in a pocket. The two of them appear to be a couple of girls heading to a dance hall, or maybe a punk concert. 

“So do you actually know where another lab is, or are we just wandering?” Carol asks.

Angelica scoffs. “Oh, I’ve been scouting them for months. I know where the labs are.”

That rankles Carol and she can’t help herself. “Because Emma wants to burgle them before someone beats her to it?”

“Not that. I mean, yeah, we’d take a few things, but that’s not the mission.”

“And just what is the mission?”

Angelica clams up. “None of your business. Just ‘cause you’re friends with Hanky-poo doesn’t mean you get to be in the inner circle.”

“Wouldn’t want to be in it in the first place, Angel.”

Angelica’s lips turn up into a fierce grin, her brows cocked. “Only my friends call me that. You can stick to Firestar, if you like.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Carol says, considering. “I mean codenames. If we’re potentially gonna run into a thief, or maybe security, or hell, maybe the cops, you shouldn’t be yelling out my name when you get caught.”

“You can take that back, Cheeseburger. I’ve never been caught.”

“Caught you on the chin once upon a time.”

Angelica chuckles. “You’re funny when you’re boasting.”

“Rude. I’m funny all the time.” Carol cracks a smile, can’t help it. This is so nice. Making jokes and bantering. Maria and Carol do that, but it’s always muted. Maria’s focused, driven. Not like Angelica. Not like--

She recognizes then what she’s doing. Angelica is a lot like Jess in some ways. Particularly the attitude and the passion. The sense of humor.

Carol’s so desperate for something of what Jess gave her that she’s seeking it out in fucking  _ Firestar _ of all people. She shouldn’t. It feels like every kind of betrayal. And yet it also feels so good, so vital, to laugh, to bond.

They reach a corner with a bus stop and Angelica motions for them to sit. She says, “So you think you need a codename, huh? I suppose Cheeseburger’s not gonna cut it. Too long and we don’t want to tie you back to your secret double life. Or your secret triple life, for that matter.”

Carol hates that Emma and the Hellions all know she’s half-Kree. Absolutely despites it. But there’s nothing to be done about it, and Emma hasn’t used that knowledge against her. She keeps waiting for blackmail that never comes.

“How about Warbird?” Carol suggests. “My school mascot.”

“Easy to say, easy to remember.” Angelica nods. “Might as well. Firestar and her trusty sidekick Warbird.”

Carol scoffs, grinning. “Please. Warbird and her ward, Firestar.”

“The one who has actual powers gets to be the hero, I don’t care how many times you suckerpunch me.”

The bus pulls up, and Carol laughs as they board and pay. They’re alone on the bus at this hour, which is good. Carol says, “Uppercuts are hardly suckerpunches. You were overconfident and you lost because of it.” The bus driver stares at them before shaking his head and closing the door. Two girls being friendly while talking about kicking each others’ asses must be downright normal to him.

Angelica says, “Not my fault you weren’t properly researched.”

They plop down into seats near the back of the bus, bantering and enjoying each other.

Finally Carol gets them on track, as the bus takes them to a part of a town that Carol isn’t super familiar with. “So where is this place? What is it?”

“Have you heard of Roxxon?”

Of course she has. “Who hasn’t? They’re basically BP, if BP stopped pretending to care about the safety of its workers and the environment.”

“That’s the one. They’ve got a research facility in town, and--” Angelica lowers her voice to make sure the bus drivers can’t overhear them, “--let’s just say they have some items on Emma’s wish list.”

Carol’s fervor to get into some trouble tonight is clouding her judgment. “I’ll bet. So some ground rules. We do not break into this place. We do not steal anything if it is being broken into. We do not kill anyone if we can help it.”

Angelica’s eyebrow lifts with a quirk of a smile. “You just got done admitting that Roxxon is basically the devil in a corporation, but we can’t take anything?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to. I know what you’ve done to people in pursuit of whatever it is you’re all doing, and that turns my stomach enough as it is. No stealing.”

Angelica makes a big dramatic sigh and wave a hand. “Fine. You’re really taking the fun out of this.”

The bus comes to a stop and Angelica hops up. “This is us.”

Carol follows the woman off the bus, and her worry wars with her excitement.

She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, but the industrial scents of metal and oil hit her strongly. Factory or warehouse district. 

Angelica pulls her along the street a couple of blocks until they walk by a giant building made of steel and concrete, with no markers outside to declare what their business is. Carol hesitates in front of it as they walk, and Angelica pulls her along, pretending to laugh. 

“Don’t stop, are you out of your mind? Cameras everywhere.”

Carol glances up and out and spots a couple. At least one is tracking their pace as they walk down the street.

“Fancy. I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare mask in that getup, do you?”

She’s been doing this vigilante thing for a year, but never once did she think she needed a mask. Now she wishes she had taken a cue from Hank.

As they leave the front of the building, which is quiet and dark this time of night, Angelica grins. “Matter of fact, I do.” She reaches into an interior pocket of the trenchcoat and withdraws a facemask similar to the one she was wearing earlier, only somehow even more gaudy and red. “You are definitely the sidekick now, Hummingbird.”

Carol snatches the mask from Angelica’s outstretched hand and holds it close until they get to a darkened alley some distance away from the Roxxon building.

“This thing doesn’t glow in the dark or something, does it?” Carol asks, putting it on her face in the dark. If only Jess could see her now. She strips off her bomber jacket and drops it onto a pile of old crates, then stretches her muscles, rolling her shoulders and preparing for action.

Angelica takes off her trenchcoat and gets her mask back into place, then a tiny flame sparks up from her fingers, giving them enough light to see by. “Just some glitter.”

“Why does your backup mask have glitter?” Her fingers come away without glitter, though, and Angelica stifles a laugh.

“And now we wait.”

Carol says, “I bet you’re great at this part.”

“I’ve already had my fun tonight. I bet  _ you’re _ going out of your mind.”

She is, but mostly because downtime and silence is allowing her mind to fill with thoughts of Maria, and Jessica. Of that look in Maria’s eyes when Carol confessed her love for another girl. Was it betrayal? Disgust? Confusion? 

Some or none?

Minutes tick by, and for every car that drives down the empty street, Carol psyches herself up, willing them to be a thief. A criminal.

And of course none of them are.

Late night workers, custodial staff, swing shift ending or beginning, she’s not sure. No one’s crazy enough to rob a giant corporation with as much blood on its hands as Roxxon supposedly has.

But as the minutes turn into an hour, and Carol begins to think this night truly is a bust, Angelica hisses for quiet, her tiny flame snuffing out.

She stands at the edge of the darkness of the alley, and motions Carol forward. She creeps out and follows Angelica’s pointing finger to a second floor window in the Roxxon building.

A light comes on, then goes out almost immediately. A few seconds pass, and another light in an adjacent window flickers on and off. Carol clutches Angelica’s arm. Her heart rate spikes and she whispers, “Is that--”

“Someone sneaking about. You’re like a god damn rabbit’s foot, Danvers. I’ve been staking out this lab a few nights a week since the break-ins started, and here you are, beginner’s luck.”

Lights continue flickering on and off in succession all the way down the building. Sometimes there’s a pause; one lasts several minutes and Carol starts to think whoever is sneaking around had to flee, but then it starts back up, until finally a light comes on, turns off, and then comes back on and stays.

“Bingo. They’ve found what they’re looking for,” Angelica says. “Things might happen fast. No idea when he’ll come out, where he’ll go, how he’ll escape. Keep an eye on the ground level; I’ll go to the roof and get another angle.”

“How am I supposed to get your attention if things go sideways?” Carol asks. She realizes she doesn’t really care. This is serious. They might apprehend a corporate criminal. A spy. Someone committing espionage.

“I’ll know.” She runs deeper into the alley, sparks a flame and lifts off the ground effortlessly. Fire flickers at the edge of the alley, and if anyone is watching, Carol’s spot just got blown up.

But she reaches the roof and the light goes out, and silence reigns.

Carol watches the window. Occasionally a shadow crosses the glass, but Carol’s way too far away to see any kind of detail.

Then the light flicks off. If he found what he’s looking for, he’ll be making an exit soon. Carol just needs to catch him in the act.

Then the chaos begins. Another light flicks on, in a room that has already been searched. A shadow appears at the window. Struggling with it. A scuffle ensues: the intruder versus security? Carol can’t tell and she’s itching to get out there and do something.

The distinct, unmistakable  _ bang _ of a pistol goes off. That spikes Carol’s adrenaline and she realizes this was a terrible idea. Before she can make the good decision to grab her jacket and flee, Firestar be damned, the glass in the window shatters outwards as two bodies fly through it. Someone is practically sitting on the first one’s chest, riding them down the fifteen feet or so to the concrete below. A scream, a thud, glittering shards of glass. The thief, clad all in black, rolls off the body of what she now sees is a security guard, groaning and clutching at his back where he landed hard. Still alive, but injured.

The thief looks left, right, across the street, a facemask not entirely unlike hers and Firestar’s, with short dirty-blonde hair almost glowing in the streetlight. A woman. So cliché for the thief to be a woman.

The thief clutches a small parcel before tucking it into a satchel hanging from her side, then sprints off almost directly into Carol’s path. 

This is it. There are calls from the building, klaxons blaring. Someone shouts from the broken window, but no one shoots at her or pursues yet. Carol screws up her courage. She’s got one shot at this, to get the drop on this woman before Firestar makes a scene or something worse.

She backs into the alley and waits. Listens for the footsteps until they’re right on top of her. Now!

She throws out a sweeping kick just as the thief passes, confident she’s about to catch a major criminal; but with impossibly fast reaction time, the thief jumps forward into a roll over her leg, catching a glimpse of Carol as she lands and darts to her feet. A panicked gasp escapes the woman’s throat, but she’s already running by the time Carol registers that she dodged the trip.

Carol stumbles over herself to give chase. Sirens call in the distance. Serenity passes through her system; this is exactly what she needs in this moment, to forget it all. To be at peace in the chaos, in the chase, as if her entire life isn’t falling apart around her.

But damn this woman is  _ fast _ . Carol sprints at her top speed, using the breathing techniques she’s learned from Mar-Vell to channel her greater stamina and strength into longer strides, and still the woman increases her lead. She turns corners with such speed it’s like she’s on a track, using her fingers on the wall to drift onto a new street and continue sprinting.

Carol huffs and puffs, and wonders briefly where Firestar is before a fireball the size of a Buick roars overhead, passing even the thief, who skids to a stop as the explosion throws her backwards. Her mask flings free and burns up in the flames.

Carol runs to catch the woman and subdue her while Firestar cheers and laughs, but as the thief flings back, another impossible thing happens. She skates along the surface of a brick wall and then just stops. Hangs on the wall like she’s a magnet on a fridge. Or a spider.

Carol stares agog at this impossible woman, five feet above her on the wall. Firelight flickers across her face, and that peaceful feeling Carol’s felt since the chase began clicks into place. 

She stares at a short-haired, blonde Jessica Drew, clinging effortlessly to a wall like the world’s biggest spider. The expression on her face is some incalculable mix of shame and rage, and Carol’s too happy to see her to register the rest. 

“Jess!” Carol yells as she reaches up the side of the wall, just inches short of making contact. 

“Incoming!” Firestar yells, and several small bursts of flame skitter along the wall, forcing Jessica to leap up the wall and away.

She vanishes over a rooftop while Firestar lands beside Carol. “Get out of here before the cops show up! I’ll chase the bitch down!”

And she rockets upwards and over the roof, the flames bathing Carol in intense heat that she barely feels. The glow of her fire fades, along with her laughter at the chase. 

But even that firebrand can’t hold a candle to the roaring inferno inside Carol’s heart.

_ Jess is back _ . And Carol has some damn questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jessica Drew is back, baby! Maybe not quite how you expected or hoped, but have faith, hope I know what I'm doing! Next chapter will see just what happened to Jessica Drew in the year since we've seen her last.


	4. Green Is The Color Of Your Venom Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reveal of what happened to Jessica Drew while she was away for the last year.

_ June, 1990 _

Jessica Drew accepts help from her father, Jonathan, as their plane lands… somewhere, under cover of night. It has been a circuitous route, with stops in more countries than Jessica can remember, and taking several days. On a small, flat expanse of dirt that could only charitably be called a runway waits a limo, with the kind of blacked-out tinted windows that celebrities use.

Jessica is still weak. She’s gotten used to it somewhat, always being frail, but now she’s just tired and jetlagged and wants nothing more than to sleep. Her father helps her down the steps on the plane, and over to the limo.

“Dad?” Jess asks.

“It’s okay, this is the man who has agreed to help us.”

The door to the back of the limo opens and the interior is darker than the runway. “Come in, don’t be shy,” a voice calls out. It is charming, calm. Inviting.

Jessica doesn’t trust it, but her father gets in first and then holds his hand out to her. She reluctantly takes his hand and eases inside, where it’s not so dark as she thought. Small lights run along the interior, and inside is a man in his 50s, perhaps. Completely bald, but with an easy smile. He’s in a tailored suit and holding a glass of champagne. He could be any celebrity on his way to an awards banquet, and yet he’s a part of some illegal organization, hiding out in some third world country, performing experiments that no ethical scientist would allow.

“Jonathan and Jessica Drew, I presume?” he asks, holding his free hand out to shake. 

“Yes, and you would be Count Vermis?” Jonathan confirms, shaking it.

“I would be, if we were in public. You can call me simply Otto, if you like.”

Jessica doesn’t shake his hand, and feigns weakness greater than she feels. She doesn’t want to give too much away if she can help it.

“That’s all right, my dear. That’s why you’re here after all. We’re going to make you well again.”

The limo takes off after their luggage has been offloaded and placed in the trunk. No customs, no passport checks. 

“So this is what it means to be off the grid,” Jonathan says.

Count Vermis smiles. “Unique problems sometimes require extralegal circumstances, don’t you think?”

Jessica smiles wanly. “I know that we’re here because there’s not many places to do what--what I need.”

“We’ll do the very best we can do for you, my dear. The skills of your father are paramount in both your health and our ongoing functions around the world. We were pleased to have the ability to help you in exchange for his services.”

Jessica doesn’t really know how to respond to this, so she leans back and closes her eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long few days.”

“Nothing to worry about, Jessica. We’ll be at the facility in no time, and once you get settled, we can begin.”

“Is it going to be mostly the same stuff my dad’s been doing all this time?”

“I’m afraid not, Jessica. We have to try some new things if we’re going to see any positive change.”

“You’re already mainlining drugs into my veins. What else is there?”

Neither Otto nor her father answers immediately, and Jessica slits opens her eyes to watch them. They communicate something wordlessly to each other, and Otto’s eyebrows rise in what could be surprise.

Jessica’s dad says, “Just some treatment regimens that weren’t possible in the States. More experimental than they allow in human test subjects.”

“So I’m a guinea pig? Yay me.”

“You’ll be cared for to the utmost,” Otto assures her, and she squeezes her eyes closed, pretending to fall asleep after a couple more minutes of idle chatter.

Only she is so tired that sleep steals over her and before she knows it, they’re inside a large parking structure and Jessica’s dad wakes her up.

“We’re here, honey. Time to go see your room.”

Otto is already gone, and there’s a muscly male nurse waiting outside the limo with a wheelchair.

“I can walk,” Jessica says, though she isn’t totally sure she can.

“You’re going to have to indulge me,” her father says, “and in every way we can, we will observe hospital protocols. That means you don’t get to wander on your own two feet until you’re well enough.”

“That sounds an awful lot like imprisonment.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Jessica lets her father help her out of the limo, and seats herself in the chair. “Can I at least wheel myself around, big guy?” she asks the nurse.

Her father says, “To a limited degree, maybe,” but the nurse shakes his head with a grim expression, and Jessica frowns to match it.

“Well, if you’re gonna be my chauffeur, Mr. Smiles, let’s be friends, okay? I’m Jessica.”

“Janosz. You will be well taken care of here, Miss Drew.” He has an accent that sounds vaguely Austrian, or maybe Polish? Jessica’s not good with accents. 

“Sounds good, Yawn-oshe,” she says, exaggerating his name. “Onward to, uh, a room I’ll probably hate in a few days.”

The next few days are pretty typical of her hospital stays, except she had gotten used to Carol coming to visit a lot. No Carol, and no contact with the outside world. And as far as she can tell, this isn’t a proper hospital. She has one window that overlooks a courtyard interior of a large facility. The courtyard is well-kept, with several park benches, vibrant green grass that looks soft and inviting, and more ash trays than she’s seen people so far. In the middle of the courtyard is one large tree overgrown with small green leaves. She doesn’t know what kind of tree it is, but her father tells her it is a beech tree. 

When she makes a pun about “Is it a beech or a bastard?” he politely chuckles but doesn’t encourage her. She misses Carol desperately in that moment. Bad puns are one of her favorite things in all the world.

She settles in and they do the standard treatments to try and get her back up and running and to “establish a base line” as her father puts it. She spends her days when she’s not too tired to do anything at all reading an endless stream of novels that her father brings her. Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Stephen R. Donaldson, Roger Zelazny. Zelazny in particular is good, because the weird guy ends up traveling through shadow and can create reality as he sees fit, and right now that’s exactly what she needs. Escapism.

Janosz and a couple other rotating nurses oversee her physical therapy when she’s able. They help feed her and clean her, and it’s all so clinical and uninteresting after so many years of doing it. They’re professional even if this is some kind of off-the-books operation. Her father administers treatments and spends time with her as he can, but most of his free time that isn’t attempting to treat her is taken up by Count Vermis on other tasks. Payment for letting him try to cure his daughter.

They are lonely days. Quiet weeks. She spends more time in bed than out of it, and even on the days she feels mostly normal they won’t let her wander freely.

She wants to go outside, to feel fresh air and smell the beech tree, the freshly-mown grass. But day after day she is inside. 

And then she catches a conversation she is pretty sure she’s not supposed to have heard. Early one morning, before the sun rises, she hears her father and Count Vermis arguing quietly in the hall outside her room. Her door is cracked open, but she can’t see them through it.

Count Vermis says, “I must remind you that you’re not in charge around here, Doctor. You work for me, and you know who I work for.”

The door to her room opens a little, and she closes her eyes again, feigning sleep. The door closes the rest of the way with a gentle  _ click _ , and the conversation continues, muted but still eavesdroppable.

“You don’t have to remind me,  _ Hydra Supreme _ .”

“Apparently I do. We have gone to incredible lengths to procure the instruments and materials you require to save the life of your daughter. The only reason we were able to get this rare specimen is that the High Evolutionary had no more need of his samples. As far as he is aware, the eight legged little buggers are extinct.”

“If it weren’t for Hydra, my daughter wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place,” Jonathan says. This is news to Jessica. “I knew it was a bad idea to bring her with us, but Miriam insisted it would be fine.”

“And where is Miriam now? Not even strong enough to come here and see it through.”

“She blames herself.”

“As well she should. A toddler has no business anywhere near the site of a radiation leak, let alone one as volatile as that.”

“None of this matters, Otto. She’s not strong enough for the next round of treatments. It’s going to be really bad.”

There is silence for several seconds, then Count Vermis’s voice comes back, with acid dripping from every syllable. “Is it your daughter, or yourself, who is not strong enough? You brought her here for this, Jonathan. I cannot have you distracted for your other work. We will proceed in the morning with the new concoction, or there will be consequences.”

The conversation continues, but they move off down the hall and Jessica can’t hear the rest of it. She can scarcely believe what she’s heard. Her parents, working for Hydra all those years ago. Her mother, responsible for Jessica’s illness? Her father, attempting to spare Jessica greater sickness and death. She doesn’t know what to do with all of this, but she knows that she can take the reins of her own destiny.

When her father arrives to check on her a few hours later, she waits until Janosz the nurse has left the room, and says, “Dad, you need to stop waiting.”

“What do you mean, Jess?” he asks, cleaning his glasses and stretching. His eyes have bags under them, and he looks tired. Well, so does she.

“We’re here to cure me, right? Well, let’s get to it. I know the new treatments haven’t started yet. Well, the longer we wait, the worse I get.”

Her father puts his glasses back on, and smiles sadly. “We are, dear. Today is the day, in fact. I’m glad you’re feeling up to it.”

She doesn’t, but she never feels up to having poison inserted into her veins. But she’s taken the first step and her father’s fear is no reason to let them fail now. She made promises she intends to keep.

_ July 1990 _

The treatments are horrible. They shave her head, her beautiful black hair that had already begun to show her natural blonde at the roots again. She doesn’t cry until that night; it wouldn’t do to let her father see her cry over something so basic. But that hair was hers. It was a symbol of her life being in her control. That even though she was sick, her raven hair was something that couldn’t be taken from her. And now it is gone, no doubt off to an incinerator somewhere. 

Carol loved that hair. Maybe she will love a bald Jessica, too. 

They hook her up to more machines; louder contraptions. An electrode cap is installed on a near-permanent basis. Machines beep, and whirr, and clatter at all hours of the day and night. When she’s even conscious, her world is agony, discomfort. They have her pumped full of drugs for any number of other problems cropping up as a result of the intense treatments. Antibiotics to prevent infection for the port that has become a part of her, to receive the drugs that are killing her slowly, to draw blood.

Sometimes days pass where she cannot recall anything. She reads the same pages over in her books because she can’t remember reading them despite the dogeared pages suggesting she’s making progress.

She no longer remembers what it feels like to stand on her own two feet, to stride confidently, to dance to music only she can hear. She asks her father to play music, the new stuff that Carol has been into the last year. She finds this suits her mood well. Grunge becomes the soundtrack of her waking moments, and she begins to resent things. She resents Janosz taking her vitals. She resents her father’s increasingly haggard appearance. She resents her own stupid body and its unwillingness to get better.

Most of all, she resents her mother. Miriam Drew is responsible for this. She heard it from her father’s own mouth. More than anything, she clings to life with a burning resentment. She needs to see her mother again; to ask her why she could do this to her baby girl. 

More days pass, a week. When she knows her father is busy elsewhere, she asks Janosz if she can speak with Count Vermis. She has been thinking about this in her increasingly short wakeful moments, and is just so tired. 

Count Vermis appears a very short time later. When Jessica is awake it pays to be punctual.

“My dear, I was not aware you had taken after me.” He takes a seat and runs a gloved hand over his bald head, and she manages a weak smile. “That was a very bad joke.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got bigger worries these days.”

His demeanor changes. “Is there something we can do for you? I can have a TV and some movies brought if you would like.”

“No, nothing like that. Count Vermis, my father doesn’t know that I know the treatments aren’t going well, but they’re not, are they?”

He stands and paces, going to the window with the big beech tree. “It’s not my place to discuss it, but no. We’re being aggressive with the treatment regimen, but every time it seems like you begin to improve, it comes back stronger. You know something of the illness that afflicts you, yes?” She nods and he goes on. “Radiation-fueled cellular degeneration is typically not something we can recover from, as humans. If it is bad enough, the exposure prolonged and strong enough, the only thing to really do is make the patient comfortable for the end. Naturally, with you, your body has been pushed beyond its normal capabilities.”

“You’re using some kind of spider DNA, right?” When his eyes widen in surprise, she holds up a hand. “I overhear things, it’s not my dad’s fault. You’re pushing more drugs into me based on this, faster and in bigger doses, right?” He nods. “What happens if you just… use the rest?”

“My dear, that would assuredly kill you. Your body could not handle the amount of poison it thinks is in your system. We want to see you standing six feet tall, Jessica, not buried six feet deep.”

“But if it’s not fixing what’s broken inside me, why are we even bothering? How is it different from torture?”

“As I said, we wish for you to recover. Your father would be more amenable if you did. And I daresay your attendants think highly of you.”

She notes that he didn’t say he cares, and she’s tired enough that she doesn’t care about the consequences of what she says next. “If I live, what happens to me? To my dad? I know you’re Hydra. I know what Hydra is.”

There is a long silence as Count Vermis watches the tree outside. Finally he turns back to her and says, “Well, Jessica, if you live, you will go on living. You have a full life ahead of you, and your father negotiated only for his cooperation ongoing after this.”

“So even if I die, you have a scientist for life.”

“Something very like that, yes.”

“Well, then I want to make a deal, too.”

“Oh, really? And what kind of deal would that be?”

“You advance my treatment schedule. All of it at once. It’ll override my body’s natural defenses, or it’ll kill me. If I die, you have my father for life. If I live, you have him for a year, and you get me as well.”

“What need have we for an unskilled teenage girl?”

“I’m smart. I’m capable. I can go undercover. I know the Stark family personally.”

“Do you now? That’s interesting.” He considers. “If you live, you will serve us.”

“I can’t kill people, or whatever, but yeah. If you can make me better, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, Jessica Drew, you should know that the unfortunate history of my organization is not who we are these days. We are much more interested in progress and profit these days. You may not do things precisely within the law, but I can promise you that we are not the evil Nazis that your American upbringing has cast us as.”

“Not anymore.”

“Hmm?”

“Hydra’s not that anymore.”

“Oh, of course. The old Hydra is not the new.”

She feels better about it all, a little bit. She isn’t sure she believes him, but what reason would he have for lying at this point? Either Jessica dies and her father works for them, or she lives and becomes a spy for them. Win win in their eyes.

“We will shake on it, yes?” Count Otto Vermis asks, holding out a hand to her. She’s weak, but she manages to lift her hand into his, and he shakes it up and down a couple of times for good measure.

“Very good. Your next treatment is scheduled for tomorrow. We will not tell your father lest he disagree, yes?”

She hadn’t thought about that. “I suppose. Yes. I will need to see him before we do this. And is there any chance I can speak to my mother, or a friend back home? To say goodbye, just in case?”

The finality of this decision is settling into her shoulders now. This time tomorrow she could be dead. Mom. Carol. I’m so sorry if I fail you.

“Unfortunately, no outside communications are possible. I’m very sorry, Jessica, but we cannot risk it. You understand.”

She does, but it doesn’t make the news any easier to hear.

Count Vermis leaves her be, and she waits for the procedure the next day, when they are going to put her under for maybe the last time. Jonathan Drew has no idea what is about to happen, but Jessica holds her hand out to her father.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Jess?” he asks, taking her hand.

“We haven’t talked about it, but I’m really glad you’re here with me.” She struggles to hold in the tears she wants to shed. 

“Of course, honey. I’m here for the long haul.”

“Well, I just wanted to say it. I love you and just wanted you to know it.”

Her father brings her hand up to his face and kisses it gently. “I know it. It’ll get better, I promise you. We’re increasing the dosage today, by a little bit, but I think we’re close.”

A little bit. That’s a little white lie. She smiles. “I know it will. I have faith in you.”

This is the last thing Jessica Drew says before her heart stops.

Count Vermis can’t believe his luck with the Drew girl. He had been wondering how to make this whole endeavor more worthwhile, and what he could do to make this girl into a pawn for their plans. And then she just hands him a solution. It’s elegant and he will take every credit for it if she lives. Given what they know about her unique bioelectric and pheromonal abilities, he has no doubt they could turn her into quite the spy. 

They wheel the treatment machines into her room after she is unconscious, and her father begins checking the doctored charts for dosage and schedule. The specialist administering the spider serum has been given a concentrated dose, more than four times what she has been given thus far. It dilutes into a solution lest it kill her instantly when it reaches her heart, and he observes with some trepidation. This most likely is going to kill her. It’s a gambit he is willing to take, for his goals, but he doesn’t have to take pleasure in the slaying of an innocent girl, whose only sins in life are having parents who love her too much.

The needle enters the medical port and the spider serum enters the girl’s bloodstream. All is calm, all is normal. For approximately ten seconds. Then Jessica Drew’s body seizes, and she begins to choke on her tongue, and her muscles lock up so that she’s arched up from the bed in a rictus of immense pain. 

Jonathan Drew panics, as his daughter’s body eats itself from the inside out. The DNA grafts riding through her blood are running riot on her body, as they collectively overwhelm her immune system. Otto watches placidly as she takes a final hitching breath, and then goes still.

The monitor flatlines. Her eyes are rolled up so only the whites are visible. Blood streams from her nose and out of her ears until the heart stops.

Jessica Drew dies.

And her father refuses to let that happen. He administers first aid and adrenaline, attempting to restart her heart, get her lungs pumping. The electrodes on her head show no brain activity on their monitor. She has been dead for several minutes by now.

Finally he rushes from the room, screaming about one last chance. Otto lets him go. He feels bad about the girl; of course he does, but he’s already planning how to utilize a Jonathan Drew who is not tethered to his family.

Jonathan comes back, wielding a hypodermic needle with something black and sinister. At first Vermis thinks he is coming for vengeance, but Jonathan runs straight to his daughter and injects the liquid into her medical port. He watches and waits. She has been dead on the bed for five minutes.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Otto starts, “but she’s gone.”

And then the heart monitor beeps once. Twice. It takes on a very slow, steady rhythm, which then increases in intensity as it struggles for oxygen. The girl isn’t breathing on her own. He hooks up an ambu bag to her face and breathes for her while asking for a ventilator to be brought. 

The girl is alive. But she is assisted by machines. No brain activity. Her father cannot believe what has happened.

Count Vermis cannot believe he is going to get the best of both worlds, if the girl ever comes out of her coma.

_ Autumn 1990 _

Jessica Drew wakes from a neverending dream. There is immense pressure on her body, on her face. She struggles, but she can’t move. She can barely open her eyes. 

But she does. She catches a momentary glimpse of the beech tree outside. It is bright red and orange, with leaves falling. She can’t process it. She passes back out..

When she wakes again, the machines have been removed from her body. The leaves have been removed from the tree. The electrodes are gone from her now fuzzy head. She doesn’t have a machine breathing for her.

She is a pale imitation of who she once was. She is a skeleton, like the tree outside. But Jessica Drew is alive.

When her father finally arrives, she has been dozing. She has been unable to speak or do much for herself, but she manages a silent cry and holds her father as best she can. 

“We did it, Jess. You’re all better. I knew you’d come out of it.”

It takes time, but she learns the whole story. She died during the treatment; someone messed up the dosage, and it overwhelmed her. She was dead on the bed for five minutes, no brain activity, no breathing, no heartbeat. And then her father used something else on her. An experimental serum he hadn’t told anyone about, something he was afraid to try because it would almost definitely kill her. And it stopped mattering when she was already dead. 

The explanation goes over her head a bit, but the treatment rewrote her DNA. In the strictest terms, she’s not entirely human anymore. The serum her father used stabilized her vital organs and allowed them to continue working while the treatment did its thing. Months of unconsciousness, of no brain activity. 

But she’s alive, and she’s different. She tries to laugh at that last, and manages a weak chuckle. When her father asks what’s funny, she waves a weak, skeletal hand. He can’t understand the context, since Carol’s not quite human and no one knows that except for Jessica. And the Hellions, apparently. 

“So I’m part spider, now?” she manages to ask.

“You’re still you. You’re just… enhanced. Those minor fluctuations in your physiology before--the pheromones and the biostatic bursts--they will likely be stronger now. Something you can learn to control.”

“And maybe I’ll start weaving spiderwebs and talking to pigs. And you can call me Charlotte.”

“You’re not a spider, Jessica. You’re still a person. Still you.”

But I’m something more, as well, she thinks. Something that can keep up with Carol, if she ever gets back to that life. It seems a million years away, and yet the emotions that well up inside her are fresh, raw, and untethered.

“When can I talk to Mom?” she asks.

Her father shrugs. “I don’t know. Things are going to be different now.”

He must not know about the deal she’s made. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. 

“And can I call Carol? I really want to let her know I’m alive. It’s been months and she’s got to be worried sick.”

“I’m working on that, Jess. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

And yet she does, and repeatedly finds them fruitless hopes. She is too weak to attempt to find a phone. And even if they do allow her to communicate, she probably won’t be allowed to say anything real. Hydra regulates communication, she’s sure.

Her physical therapy begins in earnest as soon as her father clears her for it. Once she is awake, alive, and shows no signs of the cellular degeneration that has plagued her for her entire life, they begin exercising her legs and arms, strengthening her core. It is demanding, murderous work. She ends each session wishing she could go back to being sick, but only briefly. Each session, each day, brings her bone density back, her muscle mass. Her skin takes on a healthy glow. Her hair grows back almost long enough to style now. She puts on weight as she eats and eats and eats, until she begins to feel like herself once again. Only it’s not just herself.

Her biostatic, that she has jokingly begun calling her venom, is stronger. It sparks out of her in moments of anger or frustration, and her nurses have been unwitting victims of tiny static shocks over and over as she struggles to learn to control it. Her pheromones are in overdrive, and this creates some awkward moments when the nurses have to be supervised lest they do something inappropriate. Or she is frustrated and begins putting out a fear pheromone. Slowly but surely, she understands that this may not be something she can learn to control, but Count Vermis is sure it’ll come in handy nonetheless.

She notices other things as well. She feels lighter on her feet once she begins walking in brief, halting steps. Almost like she could float. Her senses are sharper, too. She can hear a pin drop in another room, and smell the food long before it reaches her room for meals. Her vision is sharper and she can even see in the dark a little bit. She keeps these things to herself. Her reaction times and reflexes are so fast that it feels almost like a sixth sense.

She lays down with a book, and then as she begins to fall asleep in the middle of a chapter, and is nodding off, the book falls from her hands, only for her to wake and catch it out of reflex. 

Only she catches it by the tips of her fingers. It clings to her like velcro. She peels it off, and discovers that she can attach herself to any surface with her hands and feet, and hang from it with some effort. She isn’t strong enough to crawl around just yet, but she climbs the wall like her limbs are made of suction cups, and she’s so excited about this that she nearly falls off the wall.

It’s completely crazy, but she has honest-to-God powers. She’s an augmented human, as the Hydra goons refer to her. She doesn’t care what they call her. She calls herself awesome.

But with these newfound gifts and her returning strength, Count Vermis begins other kinds of training, outside of the scope of her physical therapy and without the knowledge of her father. 

Spying. Infiltration. Martial arts. With her reflexes and newfound strengths, she learns quickly. With the confidence of her body she takes pleasure in her burgeoning skills. 

She still wishes to talk to her mother. To see Carol. It’s not fair that she is well but hidden from them. 

It doesn’t take long once Jess is able to move about the grounds that she finally makes it outside. The first snow has begun to fall in whatever country they are in. The sky is a blanket of gray, and it is crisp within the courtyard. She doesn’t feel the cold like she used to, and this must be another side effect of her newfound strength and constitution.

_ December 1990 _

When she isn’t training or spending the scant few hours per week that she gets to see her father, she is bored. She is anxious. It’s early December, and with her birthday approaching, she wishes like hell she could see Carol again. Rub frosting on her face. Laugh and joke and receive a goofy little gift.

And that last is what decides her. She has abilities the others don’t know about. She has already snuck around. She waits until she has a free day, freedom from training, from physical therapy, and she makes her move. She knows she has to be careful. She knows it could get her father in trouble if she runs away. So she finds the tee shirt and jeans that she arrived in all those months ago, and is surprised to find they are a little tight on her now that she has become fit and tone. Her muscle definition surprises her, but she likes it. It’s not anything she ever thought she would have for herself, with a debilitating illness, and to see herself in the mirror now, she really loves it. Maybe not the hair, what there is of it.

She reads a book in the courtyard, sitting at one of the benches and enjoying the cold day. She still wears her glasses out of habit, despite not needing them anymore. No one seems to have noticed that she looks at people from above the rims instead of through the lenses, and she is not about to tell them different.

When she notes that no one is around, and no cameras appear to be watching her, she stands up, puts her paperback in a back pocket, hides her glasses down her shirt, and sprints for the inner courtyard wall. She isn’t sure exactly how this is going to work, but she reaches the wall and leaps as high as she can. Her feet leave the ground as if she’s on a trampoline, taking her several feet higher than she’s ever seen anyone jump from the ground. She reaches for the wall, and her fingers and feet attach, gripping in place. It’s such a strange sensation to feel tethered to concrete, and then once she’s there, maybe six feet off the ground at her lowest point, she realizes that her feet are sticking to the wall through her sneakers, and she nearly drops out of sheer confusion. Don’t question it. Just go with it.

Jessica Drew clings to the wall like a spider. She frees one hand and reaches upward. Inch by inch she moves, cautious of movement in the windows, on the ground, but no one sees her even in the daylight. She crawls up the wall faster, until she’s a few feet from the lip of the roof, and she makes the mistake of looking down. It’s not a tall building, but a sudden vertigo grips her as she sees the grass 30 feet below and it dawns on her that she’s  _ holding onto nothing on the side of a building _ .

She panics and her fear response leaps her up and away from the ground, where she flails and lands awkwardly on the roof. She’s made it. And now she just has to go the opposite direction on the other side.

Jessica creeps to the edge of the roof on the outside, and catches a glimpse of her surrounds. She had been tired and not paying attention when they arrived here, but now she couldn’t pick this place out on a map. It looks like every stereotypical, bombed-out, third world Eastern European country in every movie she’s ever seen. And she berates herself for thinking that. Surely this was once a beautiful place. Now it looks like a place that a secret organization would conduct illegal medical trials.

She climbs down the outer wall of the warehouse, and drops to the ruined wreckage of a street, where she sprints away from her responsibilities, at least for a little while.

She finds a crowded market street, busy despite the snow and the cold, and begins asking if anyone speaks English, if they can direct her somewhere. She can’t understand anyone, and once people realize she’s not a local, they begin calling to her for cheap wares and trying to get her to buy, but they only speak the words in English that are for their products. Cheap jewelry and baubles, pirated VHS movies from America, trinkets and toys. She stops at the stall with the toys, and her eyes alight on Friend Bear and Love-A-Lot Bear, from the Care Bears. They look like cheap knockoffs, with faded colors and chipped plastic. But she thinks they are perfect. Carol and Jess, Friend and Love-A-Lot. That was always them when they were little.

But she has no money, and what is she supposed to do with them anyway?

She doesn’t care. Jessica utilizes the sleight of hand and agility she’s been practicing, swiping the bears and several bills of a currency she doesn’t recognize from the shop’s till before disappearing into the crowd. Her adrenaline spikes and she feels bad about taking from strangers, but she feels even more that she loves being able to do these things.

It takes some time, but she finds a post office, or at least a place that has a sign above its door with envelope and parcel on it. They don’t speak English here, either, but she finds a tiny box to put the figures in and writes her friend’s address. She isn’t sure if she needs to put, like, America, or something, on it for international, but she figures she can pantomime it to the clerk.

Only this doesn’t go well, since the nice man doesn’t speak any English, and she has no idea what language he uses. Finally she points at the address, says, “America? This is going to America. How much? Money?” She holds up all the bills she’s taken, suddenly sure it can’t possibly be enough to get it across the world. The man looks at the address, at the wad of money she offers, laughs and waves a hand at her to get lost. 

So she gets frustrated and gets in his face a little bit. “You can’t do me this one tiny little favor? Just make it COD or whatever. She’ll pay. Look, this is going to the most important girl in the world to me. Can you just… help me out here, sir?”

And his demeanor changes. At first he viewed her as a nuisance, but as she insists and keeps talking, his eyes go wide and he nods. He holds out his hands for the package, makes some corrections in the format of the address, and takes all the money Jessica has, then adds in a few extra bills from his own pocket. 

Fear pheromones? She didn’t mean to do that, but if it gets these sent, all the better.

She kisses each tiny figure, seals the box, and lets the man take it. She thinks briefly about sending a letter along with it, but this is a compromise. If she gets caught, Hydra can’t do anything if she literally only sends toys along. Can they?

She doesn’t want to risk it. This at least will let Carol know that Jessica’s alive. That she’s thinking of Carol. That not all hope is lost and not all of life is unfair.

She leaves the post office with a satisfied smile, and not more than a minute passes before her senses pick up hurried footsteps coming up behind her. She whirls and it is Janosz the nurse, who slides up beside her with a grim expression.

“Count Vermis would like a word.”

“I wasn’t running away,” Jessica says.

“I don’t care. Tell him.” Jessica follows the man out to a main street, where the limo is waiting. Inside is Count Otto Vermis and her father. Janosz shuts the door behind her, and gets in the driver’s seat up front, and they begin driving.

“Please, relax, have a drink,” Count Vermis says. 

He offers her a bottle of water, and Jessica is suddenly nervous. She knows what these people are capable of, if the stories are in any way true. Why is her father here?

“I wasn’t running,” Jessica repeats.

Count Vermis smiles. “No, of course not. You needed to test your abilities, get some fresh air. Isn’t that right?”

Jessica’s eyes narrow. “That’s right. I was going stir-crazy.”

“You see, your father has been of the opinion that your rehabilitation was going slow, that you weren’t ready for the next phase of our operation here.”

Jonathan Drew winces. “The tests indicated she still had some weakness, Count.”

“I think she has proven that she does not. I have a confession, young Jessica,” Count Vermis says, “I have been merely waiting for you to make a move. Your extra abilities that you have held back from us, the climbing and the reflexes, we of course knew you had them all along.”

“How? I was so careful,” Jessica says before realizing she’s just confirmed it. 

But Otto Vermis merely smiles again. “We have eyes and ears in every place imaginable. There are no secrets. For instance, we know you sent a package to your little girlfriend back home, isn’t that right?”

Jessica’s heart clenches. “It was just a Christmas present. Just something to let her know I’m alive.”

He nods along. “We will verify this, of course. You have committed yourself to the cause here, are you now regretting that decision?”

“No, Count Vermis, but--”

“Then this is the last time you act without permission, is that understood? You are an agent of Hydra from this moment on, and you will comport yourself accordingly.”

“Agent? I’m not even 18.”

“Be that as it may, you have made a commitment, and as you are still among the living, we plan to hold you to that commitment. Isn’t that right, Doctor?” He nudges Jessica’s father with an elbow, and her father merely nods.

“You know about the deal I made?” Jessica asks.

“Not until recently. I wish you hadn’t taken that risk, but it was a gambit that paid off, and now you’re in as deep as your mother and I ever were. As I am again.”

“Oh, did I not tell you, Jonathan?” Count Vermis asks, slapping her father’s back in a friendly gesture. “Part of her deal was your freedom… after a time, of course.”

Her father’s eyes widen. “Jessica, you didn’t. You can’t take my place. I won’t allow it, Otto.”

“Hydra Supreme, if you please. And you would do well to remember which direction the power flows. In this car, in the facility, in all things everywhere. It flows down, Jonathan.”

“Yes, Hydra Supreme,” Jonathan says, swallowing heavily.

“I’m sorry I left,” Jessica says, hoping to get the heat off her father.

“I’m not,” Otto Vermis--the Hydra Supreme--responds. “Now we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re ready for the real. And your first mission is coming up very soon.”

_ January 1991 _

Jessica Drew has an honest-to-god spy kit on her person. In her ear is a tiny communicator. She can receive and send with this tech.

“Arachne, proceed with mission,” comes the voice of Otto Vermis, or the Hydra Supreme. She screws up her courage and enters the grounds of the American Embassy. 

US soldiers hold up hands to stop her at the gate. The embassy butts up against other embassies for other countries, and this building has seen better days. Its grass is slightly overgrown, its hedges wild and unkempt. The building itself could use a power-wash and some new roof tiles. And yet it is still somehow one of the nicer buildings in the Embassy Row. In the city itself, to be honest.

One of the soldiers steps forward, rifle pointed at the grass. “Only US citizens and expected officials can enter, ma’am.”

Her story slips into place immediately. “Oh, thank God, someone who speaks English.” She concentrates on making these men like her, on getting what she wants. She even manages to tear up a little as she speaks.

“I’m an American citizen, and the friends I made in London ditched me on the train when we were backpacking to Turkey, and my passport was in my bag, which was stolen off the train.”

“Ma’am, please calm down,” the soldier says. “You sound awfully British for an American.”

“Calm,” Count Vermis’s voice says in her ear. “”Think it through. Act on your feet.”

She redoubles her efforts. “I just said I was in London! You try hanging out with half a dozen Brits and not pick up an accent.” Good. Verge on hysteria, but don’t give in fully. Be angry, upset. 

Her pheromones might be working, as the other guard steps forward, puts a hand on the first one’s shoulder, and says, “Come on, you can see how frightened she is. Miss, what’s your name?”

“Sarah. What’s yours?” Don’t comply like a robot. Act scared, confused. 

“William. Full name, please. And where are you from?”

“Oh! Sorry. Sarah Shumacher, from Orlando, Florida.” She waits a beat and then says, “Oh, I mean, I guess it’s not  _ actually _ Orlando. It’s a suburb. Winter Garden?”

“Good,” Otto’s voice says. “Very natural.”

The first soldier nods, calling a code she doesn’t know into his radio. “Orlando is fine, Miss Shumacher. Go with Private Barry here, he’ll escort you to a holding cell while we work to verify who you say you are.”

“A--holding cell? Like a jail cell?”

Vermis says, “You must not let yourself be placed into captivity, Arachne. Abort or work your way around it.”

“You’ll be fine. Once we verify who you are, we can get you a temporary passport and arrange passage back to your parents.”

She nods and lets Private Barry lead her away. What to do about this? Her nervousness has been contained thus far as it has been going well, but now she might be on the verge of getting arrested once they know she’s not this Sarah Shumacher. That there was never a girl named that from Winter Garden, Florida.

She follows Private William Barry into the embassy. This is actually a part of her performance that she doesn’t have to fake. She got a little experience talking to soldiers on duty while at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. 

“It was William, right?” she asks, and he nods as he leads through the front door and off to a side chamber. There are more soldiers inside the foyer, but the building itself isn’t palatial or spacious. Not meant to handle real matters of diplomatic internationalism.

“I have a thing about confined spaces,” she says as he leads her down a flight of steps into the basement. It is dark, cramped, and smells musty. There are two holding cells that look exactly like dirt-floor prisons from spy movies.

“You won’t be in here very long, Sarah,” William says. “I’m sure we can have this sorted in an hour or two, and we can put you up in one of the private rooms.”

“An hour or two. I can do that, right?” she says, staring at the holding cell. This is a dangerous gambit, and if her pheromones aren’t helping out, she might just be stuck here.

“I can get you something to drink,” he offers, and she smiles. 

“That would be great. Okay, here I go.” She takes a couple of fake deep breaths and turns to the open cell, but hesitates before going in. She receives only static through the earpiece, probably blocked by too much stone.

She’s on her own for this. “Oh, I can’t, I can’t go in there. I thought I could, but I can’t.” She clutches at Private Barry’s arm and pretends to sob into his sleeve. “Can I just stay out here? You can handcuff me to the bars or whatever, but I just can’t go in there.”

Give him an out. If he thinks you’re being reasonable, maybe he will let you sit down here but free.

And he does. He pats her on the back awkwardly, and smiles. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll go get you some tea, just wait down here.”

He leaves her unattended, free to move about. There’s a grim satisfaction to her success thus far. Manipulation was supposed to be wrong, to feel wrong, but doing it well feels so right.

For a moment, the briefest of seconds, Jessica Drew considers that this is her one chance to escape. It would mean being a target of Hydra. It would mean placing her father in immediate danger. But she could tell the truth, ask for sanctuary, try to get home on her own. The moment passes. She agreed to do a job, and now she will do it. 

With her heightened senses and special abilities, she crawls up the rough wall next to the wooden stairs, avoiding their creaks and moans. She silently slips out of the basement and onto the first floor, where she finds a coat room and slips into it unnoticed. 

Inside the coat room she finds a jacket with a badge that declares a personal aide to the ambassador here, a woman’s name. She slips on the jacket and adjusts the badge so that it’s visible but hard to read the name.

“Arachne, report.” Count Vermis’s voice suddenly comes back.

She whispers, “Mission proceeds as planned. Stand by.”

She thrills at the spy talk, but has to calm herself and prepare for what’s next. She checks the foyer, in her new and impromptu disguise, and walks out like she belongs in the place. The soldiers in the foyer clock her passage but don’t even glance at her badge. Nine tenths of any espionage is blending in so no one thinks you don’t belong. The other tenth is the actual sneaky bit.

She makes her way up to the second floor, where she has been told the offices of the ambassador are located. The man is not in attendance today, and the building is subdued. There is another soldier patrolling the hallway upstairs, and she smiles beatifically at him as she passes. He only nods at her as he goes on his way, and she lets out the breath she has been holding.

So close. She finds the office and discovers it is locked, keypad entry. That wasn’t in the mission briefing!

“The office is locked by a keypad. What do I do?” she asks quietly.

Count Vermis scoffs. “You improvise, Agent Arachne. Get the hard drive and get out. The rest is just details.”

She scoffs right back. She’s strong enough to kick open the door, she thinks, but that would cause a stir. She could just press buttons at random and hope it works.

Or she could try another tactic. Her biostatic, what she has been internally calling her Venom Blasts, is electricity. It could short out the system, and most security systems automatically unlock when their supported systems go down. So she has been told.

She rubs her hands together and concentrates. Her right finger glows with green light, like a dandelion puff waiting to be blown out into the world. She reaches it out to the keypad, and the whole thing sparks and beeps rapidly.

Downstairs, Private Barry asks the soldiers in the foyer if they have seen the short-haired blonde woman he just escorted to the holding cells. Time is running out, and then an alarm sounds from everywhere. Klaxons that are so loud to her sensitive ears that she almost drops to a knee in shock.

“Arachne, abort!” Vermis shouts in her ear, but she stands and shakes her head. The door opens without issue, and she steps in, barricading the door from the inside with a fancy wooden chair. 

“Intruder!” Shouts from all around her, as the soldiers put the pieces together of what has happened. She runs over to the computer on the desk, and has a moment of sheer panic when she realizes this is not the same computer she practiced on. 

“Different computer!” she hisses, but she knows what the hard drive looks like, and she flips the computer on its side, tearing open the case and ripping free the hard drive even while the computer is on. She hopes that doesn’t destroy the information on the drive, and pockets it in her new jacket.

She can’t exactly walk out of the front gate now, so she goes to the window and looks out. Soldiers are patrolling the grounds. She opens the window and crawls out onto the overhang, keeping low as she crawls about. In the back of the embassy the walls are just as tall, but there is also a large box truck parked out back. If she can get to the truck, she can leap over the wall in an instant, and perhaps not be seen.

Only she has a fifty foot gap between the embassy and the truck, and everyone is looking for her now.

She makes a desperate leap from the rooftop, feeling the wind sail through her short hair, and for a brief moment she feels almost… floaty. Only she drops to the ground and rolls into a sprint for the truck. Shouts go up as the klaxons die. Gunfire and warnings. She doesn’t stop. Instead she leaps for the truck, using her wall-clinging abilities to vault up onto the engine compartment, and maintain her momentum as she jumps from engine to hood of the cab. The white-eyed terror of the truck driver inside the cab almost makes her laugh, but she has no time to process it. 

“Did you see that?” she hears one of the soldiers say.

“Open fire!” another yells, and now they’re firing directly at her. She flattens on the top of the carrier compartment, but if she doesn’t act fast, a stray bullet is going to find her. Sheer terror grips her; the worst case scenario of getting caught and shot! She’s not ready for this, she was crazy to think she was.

And yet part of her loves it. If she lives through it. So she waits until there’s a momentary lull in the gunfire, and leaps into the air. The soldiers’ surprise causes them to aim poorly, and she ducks into a run as she lands back on the truck. She uses her momentum to grab the wall and throw herself upwards, easily clearing the spiked metal spires on the top. She lands hard on her feet, feeling the joints scream out in protest. But nothing breaks. Nothing twists. She’s outside the embassy. She sprints for the edge of Embassy Row, where she can disappear into the thicket of the city’s interior.

As she runs, she doesn’t hear the soldiers pursuing. They seem confused as the edge of her new hearing distance leaves them behind. She says breathlessly, “Mission accomplished, Supreme.”

“Excellent, Arachne. Lose yourself in the warrens of the city and we will send an extraction unit once you are safely tucked away.”

She does exactly that, knowing the US soldiers have no authority outside of the Embassy. If the local police cooperate at all, they’ll be slow to do so. And in the meantime, Jessica can work out how to avoid the mishaps she experienced today.

_ March 1991 _

The hard drive proves that the ambassador has been on the take from local crime lords in shipping out contraband, and this information leaking causes him to resign in shame and get arrested back in the States, installing a new ambassador and improving crime statistics in the area. Jessica was worried that this was meant to bring Hydra more power, or hurt her home country, but this outcome is the best she could imagine from her infiltration.

The second job is almost flawless. Almost in that she has to rough up a security guard at a warehouse when she slips on a wet slope and falls to the ground in front of him. She frees a secret container of enslaved women brought here for a trafficking ring, and Hydra ensures they are returned to their embassies. She is doing good work.

The third job is one long mistake. She attempts to use her pheromones to get her way, as she did with the first soldier on the first job, but he doesn’t swing her way and alerts the other guards on the security detail of a rich, local crime lord. She uses her Venom Blast on one of them, and it isn’t strong enough. He almost knocks her out, and she has to flee and regroup. She plays shadow games, and manages to take out each of the guards one at a time, until it’s just her and the crime lord. And his family. And their guard dog, a big doberman.

She feels bad shocking the dog, but not as bas as she would feel with her throat torn out. By now she is wearing a mask for these night infiltrations, and for good measure the mask has a long brown wig. But the wig is ripped free when she turns to tell the young kids to run and one of them, angry at Jessica for assaulting her father, yanks her head back and calls for her brother to slit Jessica’s throat, like daddy showed them.

Jessica subdues them easily, and takes a bat to the stomach as she goes for the crime lord. Her senses are betraying her tonight, pulling her in too many directions.

Finally, after she’s bruised, bloody, and worn out, she takes the last of the family out, and uncovers their cache of weapons and drugs. A tip to the local authorities gets the man arrested, the children rehomed, and the drugs are confiscated. The weapons, however, find their way to Hydra safehouses.

Jessica and her father begin to grow apart. The more Jessica buys into the good jobs she does, and the good outcomes, the more her father asks her to stop. And she doesn’t know how to convince him that whoever Hydra was, they are doing good works these days, and profiting.

March comes around, and she cannot believe that it’s been nearly a year since she left. She wonders about her mother, about Carol, about her other friends and the life she left behind, but not as often. Rather, she finds that she wakes from a nightmare in which she, as Arachne, discovers that Carol is a criminal and must take her down. The idea is laughable, but it sticks in Jessica’s mind. Her heart aches at the oddest of times. She grows stronger every day. Her powers are more hers to command.

And yet she knows this is not the life she wants to lead, fighting smalltime thugs in third world countries. She wants to be home. She needs her old life and her new life to intersect and merge.

And when at last the reins are completely loosed, and she is given freedom of the facility and the city, she knows it is a test. If she tries to leave, or tries to contact home, Hydra will know. She wants desperately to hear Carol’s voice, but perhaps if she stays loyal enough, she will be rewarded. After all, Hydra has cells all over the world, as she has gleaned from her father.

It’s the end of March, and Jessica meets with Count Vermis. She set this up to ask a favor, and he seems to know this.

“My dear Arachne, your training has been swift and efficient. You are not flawless yet, but you think on your feet and have given me no reason to doubt you will only get better.”

Jessica smiles. “Thank you, Hydra Supreme. I appreciate your kind words. To that end, I was wondering if you had something specific for me in mind, after my training is complete?”

He grins and takes a sip of some kind of alcohol. Smells like gin, maybe, from her side of the desk. “You have done great things for us, and for the people of this country. We could continue to use you here to great effect.”

“I know that, and I wouldn’t mind that so much. If you’d asked me this time a year ago what I’d be doing now, aside from possibly dying, being a secret agent for an international crime organization would never have entered my mind.”

“We stray from referring to ourselves as that, but I see your point.”

“Of course. Sorry. And you’re right. We’re doing good here. But I have been homesick. I don’t suppose there’s anything back in the States I could be doing?”

Now Count Vermis’s smile widens. He has been waiting for this, she can feel it. “Your continued cooperation in the United States is precisely where we want you to end up, my dear.”

“Boston?”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice,” Count Vermis says, “but there are tasks there that need doing.” He makes a show of considering it. “You know the Stark boy, don’t you?”

“We flirted a bit, sure.”

“And you have been inside a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.”

“Longer than I cared to be.”

“Would it interest you to know that there are several corrupt organizations in the heart of Boston, well-connected and destroying the environment? Violating workers’ rights? Taking advantage of their wealth and influence to expand their own power? All things that we, as the new Hydra, are working against.”

“It would. Is there any chance at all that I can be assigned there, when my training is complete?”

“My dear, your training completed five minutes ago when you broached the subject.”

_ April 1991 _

Jessica Drew, AKA Arachne, says goodbye to her father. He stays behind to finish out his year, and wishes her well. There are things left unsaid and Jessica wants to ask what he isn’t speaking, but there’s no shortage of strain to their relationship these days. He seems to be taking her commitment to the spy life somewhat personal, as if he has failed her.

She leaves the country under a pseudonym, with instructions that she cannot contact anyone from her previous life for at least a few months. Jessica Drew is still somewhere overseas as far as the world is concerned. Arachne will operate for months before Jessica can “come back” officially, so that the timeline of her arrival and a new secret agent’s arrival are not suspiciously similar.

She hates this, and in a tiny flat in the heart of Boston, she sits on a bed that is more comfortable than anything she’s had in the last year abroad. She is healthy, employed, super-powered, and so lonely. It would be so easy to sneak a letter to Carol. To find her mother and confront her about all that Jessica has suffered in life. But she is wary of crossing Hydra. They operate in secret, and they do not brook disobeying orders, no matter how small and insignificant.

So she gets to work, breaking into several science labs around the city, collecting data and equipment, all of which are dead-dropped for a handler she hasn’t met except over the phone. Some severe individual calling himself the Taskmaster, which makes her want to laugh every time she says it. 

Carol’s birthday arrives. April 24th. She has never once missed her friend’s birthday, and she sits in her flat preparing for another night of espionage. Her previous night’s work is all over the news, and she sees the date and it hits her all at once. She can’t miss it, no matter what. 

She can’t betray herself, though. And she still has a mission tonight. 

Jessica gears up and leaves, not for her mission, but for the suburbs. She drives her junker that befits a young girl living on her own, and pulls up a few streets from Carol’s house. She climbs up the house easily, sees Carol through a window, spies her studying, and her heart swells. It also breaks when she sees Carol slam the photo of their younger selves on the desk in frustration.

Jessica slinks away from the house, crawling down silently and wiping away tears. “Happy birthday, Care Bear,” she whispers as she sits in her car, wondering what to do about it all.

She distracts herself with the theft. It’s a tiny processor she steals, something that will make whatever Hydra is building a bit more mobile. The dossier she receives on the company reveals that they’re dumping in Boston’s water table, and a tip to the investigating detective the next day points them in the right direction. She is satisfied with the work. She is shutting down corruption.

The next job is a few nights later, and this time she is tasked with taking data from Roxxon, from a secure server in a building with lax security. Only the job goes sideways while she’s searching. Instead of finding a building with lax security, she instead discovers that whatever Roxxon is doing, well-protected. Their server room has cameras, laser grids, what she is pretty sure is a turret gun in the ceiling attached to a motion sensor. She has no idea how to disable any of it, but she has a job to do, and she plans to do it.

She starts by choking out a night security guard, taking his security credentials, and begins searching other, less secure, rooms. Looking for tech, for computers, for file cabinets. The place is mostly a shell, with very few rooms having anything in them at all beyond a desk with a faint layer of dust. This place is a cover or something, she’s sure of it. Lights flick on and then off in rapid succession as she searches, and then she leaves the lights on when she finally spots something useful.

She finds a room with a computer, and manages to access it using the guard’s security pin # on his badge. Her eyes dart about the screen as she pulls up file after file of innocuous research projects. Data sets that mean nothing to her. Modeling data that she copies just to be safe. 

She turns the computer off and pockets the floppy disks she’s using. Not what she’s here for, but it’ll do for now. She searches more rooms, and then finally finds what she needs. An access card some scientist has lazily left on their lab coat in their office. She swipes it and goes back to the hallway with the advanced security, using her senses and stealth to avoid the patrolling guards. Fortunately no one’s found the one she knocked out yet.

The card beeps on a small control panel, and she follows onscreen prompts to disable the various layers of security. She takes a tentative step out, where the turret is, and waits for it to activate, read to throw herself to safety with her reaction time and reflexes. She breathes deep and enters the secure server room, where she finds another computer terminal. This one is the jackpot she’s after.

She sifts through files, finds the accelerant formulas she needs, then snoops a little more for good measure. There’s several unlocking modules on this screen, and she activates each one, where little panels in the walls open up with a hiss of pressure releasing. Inside the first she finds files. She puts them in her satchel without reading them. In the second, a set of hi tech handcuffs or maybe shackles, glowing green along the edges. She pockets these, too, wondering what a company like Roxxon would need them for.

The third panel reveals tiny vials of liquid, marked with chemical formulas she doesn’t recognize, but whose common names she definitely does. Mustard gas, ebola. Chemical warfare weapons. What in God’s name is Roxxon doing with those? And why does Hydra want them?

She shivers as she leaves them be. She’s not prepared to accidentally start a plague or kill a bunch of people. The final panel has a sample of the accelerant she’s looking for, and she gently takes it and places it in the protective pocket of her satchel. It’s time to go, and she’s got a lot of questions she is afraid to ask suddenly.

But before she can do that, klaxons blare. Sirens sound. Lights flash. She rushes out of the room before the door can shut on her, locking her in. The turret activates and trains on her, and she throws herself at the ceiling, clutching to it and firing a tiny Venom Blast at the barrel of the turret, which shorts it out and she sighs in relief.

But she doesn’t have time to wait. Jessica drops to the floor, activating the laser warning system and alerting all the guards to her location. She runs for a door, guards hot on her heels now, looking for a window. Her point of entry is lost to her now; surely locked down like everything else.

She flicks the light on and rushes for the window, attempting to open it, force it open, but nothing works. Guards funnel in after her. One holds a gun, another a night stick, and the third a can of mace.

“I don’t suppose you fellas want a fair fight?” she asks, and the one with the night stick rushes her. She ducks under it, trips him, avoids the spray of mace with a backwards fall and leaps back to her feet. The one with the gun aims and fires, and she just barely misses it thanks to her superior senses. It embeds in the concrete wall behind her with chips of stone flying, and she yanks the gun out of the guard’s hand, tossing it to the floor while she kicks him in the crotch. Thinking she’s about to have a moment to breathe and plan, she hears more guards rushing down the hall. How much security does one tiny building really need? 

Obviously a small army if the things she found were any indication. One of the guards in the room manages to stand and go for a tackle, but she sidesteps and trips him. Another goes for her satchel and she chops him across the throat, then holds him in place while he struggles to breathe. Nothing for it but to take a chance.

She rushes the man toward the window, pushing him with her increased strength so that he will meet the window before she does, and leaps up onto his chest as he shatters the glass. She shields her face from the shards as they fall through darkness. Please don’t die, please don’t die. The thud jars her off the body, and the accelerant rolls out of her satchel. She scoops it up and stuffs it in her bag again, verifies the man is alive, and looks for an exit. 

She sprints off in one direction, putting distance between her and the building, her and the guards. Another shot fires as she rounds the corner, safe from them for the moment.

And time seems to slow as she rushes toward an alley. A momentary flash of danger. She doesn’t have time to stop, so she instead dive rolls over a sweep kick, across the opening, twisting as she goes to see--

Her heart could have stopped in that moment.

It’s Carol. Wearing a ridiculous bright facemask, but it’s her. She’d recognize that face, that sideswept sideshaved hair, that jacket, anywhere. And now that she’s paying attention, she can smell her, too.

No time. She’s got to get away. She bounds up from her roll into a run, and Carol chases her. Damn her vigilante nights!

But despite Carol’s half-alien physiology, Jessica outpaces her. She’s getting away, slowly but surely, and with her newfound stamina and strength, she’s pretty sure she can keep doing it.

Only she doesn’t get the chance. A spark of flame sounds behind her. A giant ball of flame rockets over her head, exploding on the sidewalk in front of her, throwing her backwards even as she tries to stop. She catches a glimpse of a flying woman with flame-red hair and a bright yellow costume bearing down on her. She catches herself on the brick wall she skids across, even while she feels the mask ripped free from her face from the blast. With the fireball lighting up the night, and the mask gone, Jessica clings to the wall, exposed. 

And Carol recognizes her. 

“Jess!” Carol yells, running to the wall and reaching for her. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to have time to come back, to do it right.

She hides her face and leaps away, upwards, to safety, while the fiery woman she thinks must be Firestar pelts the brick wall with little pellets of flame, chasing her up to the rooftop.

She leaps to the roof and darts off, not sure how she’s going to evade a woman who can fly and shoot flames, but Firestar is clumsy, too eager, and Jessica drops into an alley as Firestar roars overhead. She crashes through a window and runs through the old remains of a warehouse, slips out the other side, and continues running. Firestar is above her, searching around, but Jessica blends with the darkness. She moves silently. She is shadow and the shadow welcomes her.

Eventually the woman gives up, and Jessica finds her way back to her home. She collapses to the bed and hyperventilates. How is she ever going to explain any of this to Carol? How can she even begin to justify not coming to her when she was in town?

And looming even larger on her mind, what will she do about the things Hydra had her steal from Roxxon? She dodges a call from Taskmaster, and stares at the satchel on her kitchen counter. There are weapons of war in that satchel. Evidence that Roxxon is definitely evil. Evidence that Hydra may not be the helpful underground organization it has led her to believe it is.

And she doesn’t know what to do about any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks a slight change in the narrative. Where before it has been primarily a Carol Danvers story, going forward you can expect to see more scenes following Jessica Drew, as her narrative and Carol's intertwine. It will still follow Carol on her journey towards Captain Marvel, but now it will also focus on Jessica's Drew's journey towards Spider-Woman.
> 
> Also sorry this was a week late! As you can see, it was quite a doozy of a chapter and I wanted to get it all out there.


	5. Midnight Admission, Blackest Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Angelica escape the sirens and the cops from the Roxxon break-in. Later, Carol goes to see Jessica's mother, Miriam, for questions and confessions.

Carol stares in shock at the lip of the roof where Jessica vanished, where Angelica rocketed off after her. There’s some laughing, some catcalling, plumes of flame. But in no time at all, Firestar comes back to the street where Carol stands mute and confused. She lands a little unsteadily with her fire flickering out beneath her, and holds the brick wall to steady herself.

But she laughs. “Damn, Warbird, you find all the good fights. That sneaky bitch ducked down between buildings as I was flying over, and by the time I circled back around, she was gone. Crashed through a window or something.”

“You lost her,” Carol says.

“She evaded me, sure. I might be able to fly and throw fire, but who expected to run into someone who could crawl walls as easily as the street, and do backflips over roof gaps?”

Carol is upset that she got away, but also relieved. Explaining Jess to Firestar, and having that trickle back to Hank and Emma Frost, is not something she’s interested in doing just now. Or ever, if it means Emma learns about it. Bad enough that icy woman has plans for Hank, and Carol, and for all she knows, Tony. Jess has been through too much to be used like that.

“What’d you say to her before I chased her up the wall?” Angelica asks.

“Oh, uh.” What did she say? Jess’s name, of course. She lies. “I called her an ass.”

Angelica’s eyebrows raise and she smirks. “Not your finest comeback.”

The sirens are getting closer now, and Carol looks around. The raging fire that sent Jess up to the wall dies away without additional fuel to keep it burning. Near the epicenter, the burned-up facemask Jess was wearing sits on the ground. Carol lifts it up and holds the half that doesn’t crumble to ash in her fingers. She pockets it, and grabs hold of Angelica’s arm.

“Like you said, who expected her to monkey her way up the building? We should get our stuff and get the hell out of here, before we’re caught up in this.”

Angelica sighs. “You’re way weird after the chase. I like you more when you’re angry.”

“I like you more when we’re not running from the police.”

“Ugh, fine. Come on.” She holds her arms out in a hugging gesture and Carol hesitates. 

“I’m, uh. I’m good.”

“I’m not here for any kumbaya feel-good stuff, dipshit. Faster if we fly back.”

Fly. Carol’s so confused right now, so out of sorts about Jess, about Maria, that she doesn’t register it at first. Then what Angelica’s talking about clicks into place, and she’s so curious that she can’t turn it down.

“Is it safe? You won’t burn off my boots or something?”

“I mean, you might have a little sunburn when we’re done, but no, your clothes will be fine. If we’re doing this, let’s do it. I attract a little more attention than most when I’m rocketing around, you know.”

Carol steps into Angelica’s arms, and the older woman pushes her back, then turns her around and locks her arms under Carol’s shoulders, so that Angelica presses into her back. It’s like and yet unlike the way that Jess would hug her from behind. Intimate and yet clinical. Carol fights the urge to push the woman away.

“This is gonna be weird, but try not to throw up, okay?”

Before Carol can respond that she’s flown in a fighter jet before, the jet of fire shoots out from beneath Angelica, all sound and fury. Carol’s feet leave the ground as her shoulders cry out from the awkward position Firestar holds her in. But they rocket up, higher, wind streaming past her face, her stomach dropped into her pelvis. 

This is incredible! She lets out an involuntary yell of joy at the pure, sheer wonderment of flight. At that thing she’s always chasing, that is ever near her grasp. Freedom. Release. Firestar matches her yell, and they rocket above the rooftops. Carol is far too excited to realize she should be terrified. What if Firestar drops her? What if this is all a crazy ruse to drop her to her death?

Those thoughts flit by as fast as the windows on the buildings. The lights and the sirens are all around them, but distant way up here. Nothing can touch her. Carol Danvers is free.

And as suddenly as it began, Firestar drops her to the ground in the alley they started in, outside Roxxon. Carol’s knees go weak and she struggles to stand on her own two feet for a moment, giggling. Worries forgotten in the moment.

“Don’t go all starry-eyed on me, Danvers,” Angelica says, gathering her trenchcoat and handing Carol her bag. 

“That was--oh hell,” Carol says back, accepting her bag, fingers shaking. 

“We can gossip about how cool it is to fly after we’re not being questioned by the police. Come on.” Angelica pulls the mask from Carol’s face, removes her own, stuffs them in a pocket of her coat, and drags Carol along, arms looped like they’re best friends on a bar crawl.

Carol lets herself be pulled. Flight is a hell of a drug. She floats along, letting Angelica guide her until they pass into safety and out of the warehouse district. It isn’t until her adrenaline drains away that she feels the weight of everything press back in upon her. She’s tired. She’s made Maria hate her. Jess is hiding some major shit. And on top of it all, the unfiltered joy of a few minutes ago now seeps into her heart with a deep well of shame. Shame that she had a good time with an enemy. That she let someone fill that Jess-shaped hole in her heart, for even a moment.

And then it hits her. This is some kind of twisted attraction. She hasn’t felt this for a single other person since Jess went away. And the first time she does, is the same night that Jess reappears. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get away, a couple bus stops, back to the bars, back to the night life. Angelica escorts Carol back to her car, which she left in a parking structure downtown. 

Once they’re in the parking structure, Angelica sighs. “Man, I might have to go find a lonely guy at last call. No fair to get a girl all riled up with a chase sequence without the payoff.”

Carol registers what she means a moment too late, and hides her blush. “Hey, grown woman here,” Angelica says, laughing. “I do what I like, when I like it.”

“Have fun storming the castle?” Carol says.

Firestar pauses a moment. “Is that a movie reference?”

Carol nods. Jess wouldn’t have needed to ask. And for some reason, that makes all the difference. “Hey, Angelica?”

“Yeah, Danvers.”

“Tonight was weird.”

She smiles. “You’re an alien and I’m a mutant. Weird is the new normal, Warbird.”

“I guess it is, Firestar. But hey--thanks. I needed a distraction.”

“Ugh, no mushy stuff. I’ll be around, if you wanna chase spider-ladies around again sometime.”

“No doubt,” Carol says, smiling as best she can. A nervous energy begins to fill Carol. The events of the night need some kind of answer, some resolution. But she has no idea where to start.

So she waves goodbye to Angelica Jones, and drives back to her suburb, Beverly. There’s only one person who might know something. Anything. Carol gets home, where her father is passed out in his recliner in the living room, and her mother nods silently to her from the stairs. Even an alien mother worries for her daughter when she’s out way past curfew. Carol has a lot more leeway now that the secret is out, now that Marie knows her daughter can handle herself and anything Earth wants to throw at her.

But Carol doesn’t turn in for the night. Instead she grabs a couple of trinkets from her room and rushes back out the door, drives off before her mother realizes she’s not staying. It’s only a few minutes, virtually no traffic, before she pulls up in front of Jessica Drew’s house. 

If anyone knows more than Carol about Jessica’s whereabouts, it’ll be her mother, Miriam Drew. She’s been here since Christmas, alone and working R&D somewhere to make ends meet. Waiting for word from her husband or Jessica. Waiting for her daughter to die, knowing she wasn’t strong enough to be by her side through the whole ordeal.

Carol never told Miriam about the Christmas gift Jess sent her, the dented, scarred Care Bears. This will have to cover why she’s here tonight.

She knocks on Miriam’s door, then rings the doorbell. She isn’t sure what time it is, but it’s probably close on 2 or even 3 AM. Carol doesn’t care. Miriam can just deal with it.

After no one answers, of course, Carol knocks louder and longer, then rings the doorbell multiple times in a non-repetitive fashion. Then does a staccato knock again, each rap on the wooden door sharp, punctuated. 

A light comes on, then another. Miriam Drew’s ghostly form in her robe appears at the window, peeking through the curtains.

Carol waves, and says, “I need to talk you, Mrs. Drew. It’s about Jess.”

Through the window, Miriam’s eyes widen. “Did she call you?”

The door unlocks and opens, and Miriam hugs the robe about herself as she ushers Carol inside. Carol hasn’t been inside Jess’s home since Jess left, and the place feels empty, hollow, and lonely. Like a place haunted, even though someone still lives there.

Carol shakes her head at Mrs. Drew’s question and says, “She sent me these.” Carol holds out her hands with the two Care Bears, Friend and Love-a-Lot. 

Mrs. Drew yawns and stares at them, her eyes coming into focus more as she wakes up. Her eyes light up as recognition dawns. “Jess used to say you were these two.” She takes them both and holds them up, inspecting them. “You’re sure they’re from her? Why are they beat up?”

“Who else? I don’t think my parents even know about the Care Bears thing.” And her brother must have been too young to remember, surely.

“When did you get them? Did she send a note? Oh, Carol, tell me everything.” She leads Carol to the kitchen table, where she deposits Carol and goes to make a pot of coffee.

Carol tells her that she was out late that night, and these had arrived with the mail during the day, so she got them when she got home this late. This has been her little secret since Christmas and she is loath to let it go. A tiny amount of power she holds. She decides to hold on to it a little longer.

“So you haven’t heard from her?” Carol confirms, and Mrs. Drew shakes her head sadly. 

“I’ve tried everything I know. I have contacts in the government, through… important organizations. But no one is talking. You said she told you a lot about where they were heading. I’m afraid Jonathan has taken her somewhere it is hard to return from.”

Carol drinks her coffee, letting it warm her where she feels only cold and directionless. She’s so tired of holding in secrets. Of having to remember who knows what. Of lying and talking around things. Mrs. Drew deserves to know some truth, even if it’s not the whole. 

“I told you over Christmas that I loved Jessica,” Carol says, heart pounding. That she admitted it to Maria earlier somehow makes this easier. And if it goes badly, it’s not like Mrs. Drew is a mainstay in her life. And Jess didn’t contact her mother, only Carol.

“I remember. I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” Mrs. Drew reaches a hand out and squeezes Carol’s on her coffee mug.

“That--I mean. Ugh, why is it so hard to just say what I feel.” She stands and paces, and Mrs. Drew stares at her for a moment before she utters a tiny gasp, so small. 

“Are you saying what I think, Carol?” Miriam asks.

Carol sucks in a breath and says it all at once, before she can hesitate. “If you’re thinking that I’m your daughter’s girlfriend, then yes.” It’s out. It doesn’t get to go back in, at least not to this woman.

“Huh,” is all Miriam says at first. Tears well in her eyes. She stands and paces while Carol stands stock-still now, watching her. Waiting for judgment. Screw her. She doesn’t matter. 

Except she does, and when Miriam turns, eyes pouring forth tears, she pulls Carol into a deep, fierce hug, squeezing so hard. Carol tenses up at first. She was expecting something else, she supposes.

“Are you really? You were a couple?” Miriam asks while hugging her.

“Are a couple. We sort of admitted it to each other before she left.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry you had to go through that. To find each other just before having her ripped away. It’s awful.”

Carol is so confused. “You’re not--you’re not mad? Or scandalized?”

Miriam laughs. “I’m not thrilled, I guess, but why would I be mad? Mad that my daughter found love in her short time on earth? Scandalized that someone is going to find out that my only child is gay? What the hell does that matter against her happiness, against her continued survival? Jess doesn’t know this, but her illness is my fault. I can’t possibly be mad at her for finding what completes her. It’s my fault she had so little time.”

That’s so much to drop on Carol all at once. Acceptance, pity, grief, love. Sadness that she caused her daughter such harm. All Carol feels is anger in that moment. Anger that Jessica is gone now because of this woman in front of her. Whatever happened, Miriam blames herself.

Carol pushes away. “You did this to Jessica?”

“It was an accident!” Miriam says. “She was out of my sight for barely two minutes. But I guess that’s all it takes for radiation to do its thing.”

Radiation. Carol can’t process it. She’s heard horror stories about how radiation affects people. Lesions, organ failure, cancer. What kind of awful effect caused Jess’s body to slowly break down over years? To cause a silent decay?

The anger seeps away. It’s useless right now. “I’m gonna go home, get some sleep,” Carol says numbly. She doesn’t know how to process any of this now. She’s earned the acceptance of Jess’s mother for her relationship with Jess, but at what cost? What terrible knowledge to be burdened with, if Jessica doesn’t know about it.

“Of course, dear. It’s so late,” Miriam says, grabbing the Care Bears off the table and pressing them back into Carol’s palm. “Thank you for telling me about this. And about how my little girl found romance after all.” She smiles, and Carol does her best to return it, as she takes her leave.

Reveal one secret, gain another. She needs to find Jessica. She needs to unburden this load. She needs, more than anything, to feel again the gentle caress of Jessica’s fingers along her cheek, the brush of lips against hers. That rush of feelings in her chest every time Jessica smiled at her.

She now knows she just needs to find Jessica Drew, and remind her that someone loves her.


	6. Longing For You, Pining For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol becomes frustrated with searching for Jessica, and has to deal with a birthday party and an awkward conversation. Maria thinks about how to help Carol. Jessica gets some good news, at long last.

The search is fruitless, of course. Between her job, internship, and school, Carol doesn’t have time to search around. And she can’t tell anyone that Jess is back. Not yet. The scant few hours after her job ends Thursday night sees her canvassing neighborhoods in downtown Boston, with a year old photo of Carol hugging Jess tightly, Carol’s face mostly obscured, and Jess mugging for the camera. Her hair being short and blonde now isn’t helping matters, and she ends the night frustrated.

School and internship on Friday are likewise barriers to her searching, and she remembers at the last minute that Tony has been planning a party for her birthday for weeks, and that she needs to go. At least long enough to put her appearance in, and then she can go back out searching. 

And about the time Carol hops off the bus to the club Tony has rented for the night, or that he owns, or whatever, it occurs to her that she hasn’t seen or talked to Maria since the whole confession of love. And Maria is of course invited to the party. Shit shit shit. Maybe Maria will just do her a favor and leave her alone. It’ll be shitty to lose that friend, that flight buddy, but until Carol finds Jessica, none of the rest of this really matters, does it?

And thinking that, she nearly turns and leaves them all. Only Rhodey spots her as he’s having a smoke on the corner, and calls her out.

“Hey, birthday girl!” He jogs over, and Carol turns back, doing her best to plaster a smile on her face.

“Hey, Rhodey,” she says, and they bump fists.

He says, “I lost $5 just now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Maria said you might not show. That you guys got into it a bit the other night.”

“Is that all she said?”

“Wouldn’t say anything else. But I knew you’d show. Y’all are joined at the flight stick.”

“She’s here?” Carol’s nervousness grew, and her stomach churned.

“Of course. We got everyone. Tony said he even had a surprise ‘guest’ for you. He did the finger quotes, not me.”

Surprise guest. The literal only person Tony could know about that Carol would want here is Jess. And that wasn’t likely. Was it?

“Who is it?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

Carol isn’t ready to confront any unexpected stuff, but she lets Rhodey lead her along to the club entrance. Normally this place is 21+, but since it’s a special event and a Stark is running things, the rules are loose.

Inside, the place looks like a USO show from the ‘40s, and Carol can’t help but laugh. It’s horribly corny, but also kind of punk rock? There’s bright American flag banners all over the place, mixed with corporate booze signs and neon lights. Captain America PSAs play on TVs silently around the room. 

Hank McCoy and Tony Stark are talking in the corner, and Maria chats with Kelly, Carol’s friend from work. For a moment, Carol thinks this is everyone, and the place looks depressingly empty. It’s true, she doesn’t have a lot of friends, and many of the people she is acquainted with are secret internship. There are, however, a scattering of ROTC people she knows from Hanscom Air Force Base, who greet her in passing with vague birthday wishes. They would, of course, show up if they found out it’s a Stark party.

Carol gets a quick look around the room, eyes scanning for Jess even though she knows she isn’t going to be here. It would be insane, but Carol’s hopes rise anyway, then drop to the floor when Jess is not, in fact, in attendance. She does her best to smile, though. 

“Party’s on!” Rhodey calls, bringing everyone’s attention to Carol.

Kelly runs up and clangs her metal bangle against Carol’s, the gift she gave Carol at Christmas. 

“Hey, Kelly,” Carol says, not sure how to navigate this party when her mind is anywhere else.

“You’re almost late!”

“Late to your own party is cool these days, isn’t it?”

“Fashionably late,” Rhodey agrees. He splits from the group and goes to join Maria at the table, handing her a $5 bill. Maria barely registers his presence, though, as she watches Carol. Carol pretends not to notice her. Whatever happens with that probably won’t play out tonight, if there’s a God.

She makes small talk with Kelly while Tony directs the party, and before too long, more people begin showing up. Older people, punks in leather and chains, multi-colored hair and tattoos. People Carol doesn’t know. Some students from her school that she’s at least not enemies with. Then a small group of mutants shows up, led by John Proudstar and Angelica Jones. At first glance, these mutants could be a random group of punks, with discolored hair and wild makeup, but because Carol has seen them in the company of John, Angelica, and Hank, she knows better. 

There’s Manuel, a handsome Spanish guy who doesn’t have any visible differences that would mark him out as a mutant. His dark hair is spiked all over, a look Carol remembers from the mid-’80s punk look, and his fingernails are painted black. She met him briefly at Ice Dream, Inc. one day when Emma had him running errands for her. One more mutant whose power she doesn’t know yet.

And then there’s Clarice, who Hank told Carol isn’t wearing makeup. She’s got piercings in labret, septum, one eyebrow, and more than Carol has in her own ears. But what really sets Clarice apart from anyone else is the vague pinkish skin tone, the magenta pouf of hair sitting atop her head, and solid green eyes that Carol knows a contact lens can emulate, but not for long without intense discomfort and damage. And to top all that off, there are markings on her face--a deep pink diamond on her forehead, and triangular shapes above her eyebrows and up one cheek. The look altogether weirds Carol out, and Clarice hasn’t been seen in public much, probably for that very reason.

Carol, though, waves at Angelica, and the bombastic woman waves back, then goes to the bar for a drink. Some of these people are definitely old enough for liquor. Carol’s sure she could get some if she wanted, but right now she thinks that might be a bad idea.

Tony finally makes his way over to her, and gives her a brief hug. She lets him, which she normally wouldn’t do, but she’s feeling weird tonight.

“Look at this. You’re famous,” he says, an arm around her shoulder, turning her in all directions to see the gaggle of people she barely or doesn’t know at all.

“Infamous to some, maybe. Rhodey says you have a surprise guest for me.”

He grins, then it drops away when he realizes she’s frowning. “Hey, what’s that for? It’s a good surprise, I promise!”

“What, did you invite Johnny Storm to come and terrorize me?”

“First of all, rude. That’s the guy who gave you hell when I first met you last year, right? Yeah, I wouldn’t bring him here unless it was to put him in a dunk tank full of cheese whiz or something.” That gets a tiny smile from Carol.

“Second of all, you should direct your attention to the stage, and more specifically, the drum kit.”

Carol lets Tony guide her eyes, and they settle on the bass drum. Pretty standard circle, except that there’s a small banner hanging over the front of it. Stylized letters, white on black.

She gasps. “You’re shitting me.”

“Gross, and not even a tiny bit.” Tony’s grin returns when Carol can’t help but crack a smile, a big one. “Good gift?”

“Incredible gift, Tony! You’ll prove your worth yet.” She throws her arms around him and hugs him tight, squeezing so hard he wheezes, and then lets go. “Unless this is some elaborate prank.”

He coughs a little and shakes his head. “Elaborate yes, but only good vibes tonight. Come on, you’re gonna meet the band.”

Siouxsie and the Banshees, her favorite punk band. Even now that she is listening to more of the emerging grunge and industrial scenes, she goes back to Siouxsie time and again. She didn’t even know they were in the country, let alone playing a private show at her  _ birthday _ of all places. Tony must have spent a fortune. Or called in some pretty favors. Maybe both.

Tony starts to lead her away, and then Carol’s eyes land on Maria. Her heart sinks. Maria would love this. She digs Siouxsie and the Banshees, too.

“Hold up,” she says. “I need to go deal with a thing, first. Um. It might ruin the night.”

“Then can it wait?” Tony asks, annoyed. 

“Not really? Look, Maria and I need to work something out.”

“What beef could you possibly need to squash with your current best friend?” But he waves a dismissive hand. “You know what? Not my business. I’ll be over there, chatting up that fiery redhead.” He nods at Angelica, and Carol grins so big Tony says, “What? You think I can’t get her number?”

“Oh, no, I dare you to try. Make sure you call her Angel, she loves that.”

His eyes narrow slightly at Carol, distrusting, but he nods and walks away. Carol would love nothing more than to watch him flame out against Angelica, but her gut drops. Don’t put it off. She turns back to Maria.

And Maria is standing in front of Carol, arms crossed over her chest defensively. Her face is unreadable, but maybe nervous?

Maria says, “Hey.”

The lack of their standard, routine greeting cuts deeper than anything. “Hi.”

They stand awkwardly staring each other down while people move about them. Neither speaks. Carol shifts nervously.

Finally she says, “So you were taking bets on whether I’d show.”

Maria’s mouth turns up slightly in a smile. “I bet you would, though.”

“That’s not how Rhodey put it.”

“James is a jerk at the best of times.” She scoffs. “Hey, I wasn’t sure I  _ should _ show up, for whatever that’s worth.”

What a bitch. “Seriously?” 

“No, damn, I’m doing this all wrong. Carol, I’m trying to say something here. Can we go talk somewhere less ‘middle of the dance floor’?”

Carol shrugs her shoulders, not trusting herself to say anything just yet. Maria leads her to a private booth usually reserved for VIP, and they sit opposite each other in the circular booth.

It’s quieter here. Some trick of the room architecture despite it being relatively open to the rest of the club.

“Listen, Danvers,” Maria says, “I shouldn’t have left you alone after you said that stuff on your birthday. I was a shit and I’m sorry.”

Carol is gobsmacked by this admission. She was honestly expecting Maria to write her off for being gay, just some bitch bull dyke who likes to argue and get into fights. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that about you. About what Jess really meant to you. I had to process it, which is maybe not the right answer, but it’s the one I have.”

“You’re not grossed out?”

Maria shakes her head. “I don’t get it, but no. Life is crazy. There’s mutants with powers.” She motions with a hand around the room, at the TVs. “There have been people like Cap, who supposedly got superstrength and whatever. We’re sort of being rushed through the crucibles of tradition and science breaking down all these bullshit biases and barriers our parents threw up, that their parents cling so tightly to. What kinda jerk would I be if I deal with racists all day long, but turn around and gay bash the most badass girl around?”

Carol’s eyes mist over, and she’s suddenly worried she’s going to cry in front of Maria. She sighs and her voice breaks as she sucks in a great breath. This is exactly what she needed to hear, and realizing it only makes it worse.

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Carol admits. 

“Well, I’m sorry I made a mess of it. And Jess felt the same way about you?”

Carol nods, then says, “Feels. She’s out there. Actually…” Secrets. Too many secrets. “Actually, she’s in town.” 

Maria’s eyes go wide. “Seriously? When did she get back?”

Carol leans in close, motioning for Maria to do the same. She whispers, “I can’t tell you everything, but I want to. I think it’s tied up with my internship.”

Maria knows about the more secretive aspects of Carol’s S.H.I.E.L.D. internship at this point. Mostly she thinks it’s ridiculous, but kind of awesome. A weight lifts off Carol’s chest as she fills Maria in on what happened with her finding Jess, how she looked different. She doesn’t bring up Angelica or the fact that Jess can climb walls like she’s got suction cups for fingers now. Some secrets aren’t hers to tell, in any capacity.

But revealing that Jess is back, at a minimum, is everything. Someone knows. Someone understands what Jess is to Carol. Someone who isn’t Jess’s mother.

“So I’m gonna go looking for her every chance I get,” Carol finishes. 

“How is it that all this weird shit happens to you? You’re like a magnet for trouble and awesome,” Maria says, but Carol can tell she’s a little jealous of it all.

“Lucky, I guess.” And you don’t know the half of it, Flygirl.

“I hope you know I’m gonna hug you now,” Maria says. “I can’t be what Jess was--is--to you, but I can be the friend who keeps you focused. I can be the boot to the ass.”

Carol grins and lets Maria side-hug her. Tonight’s all about hugs, apparently.

“Now listen,” Carol says after wiping a stray tear from her eye, “What say we go meet Siouxsie and the Banshees?’

Maria’s lips split into a huge grin. “Is that banner for real? Stark brought the damn Banshees to your birthday?” She clucks a tongue. “Flygirl, are you sure you’re not into guys, not even a little bit? ‘Cause a billionaire playboy just spent more money on you than we’ll probably have all year.”

“I know.” Tony’s a cad, but he’s been such a good friend. It might be time to let him know she’s not just not interested in him. Let him focus his friendship and flirting energy elsewhere.

“Nothing? Not even a little tickle in your tummy?” Carol blushes and shoves Maria back, and it’s hard enough that Maria falls out of the booth, pulling Carol with her when she grabs hold to stop from falling. They collapse into a pile, cackling wildly. 

“Let’s go meet a kickass lady,” Carol says.

Carol floats on a cloud after the hang session with the band. Siouxsie was very nice, offloaded some merch, tee shirts and CDs, a signed poster. Let Maria pluck at a guitar. The night has turned out to be very good. They leave the merchandise in the back, to be retrieved later. Carol is still distracted, still thinking about when she can go look for Jess, but it’s the furthest from central in her mind as it has been since Wednesday night. Since she found out Jess is alive, well, and in town.

Eventually, the band starts to play, and they all lose themselves in the music. Siouxsie doesn’t bring Carol up on stage or anything embarrassing like that. This is a proper show, and everyone gets into the music, even if they’re all clearly not interested in it normally. That’s the vibe a good concert brings. And Siouxsie and the Banshees always brought that energy.

Maria splits off from Carol to join Rhodey for a smoke outside, even though people smoke inside the bar. Carol thinks they’re probably doing more than smoking, and smiles. 

Then Angelica bumps into her, and she has clearly been drinking and enjoying herself.

“Danvers!” she shouts over the music. “Dance with me!”

Before Carol can say no, Angelica throws her arms around Carol and pulls her toward the crowd of dancing punks. It’s not an ordered affair, and Carol lets herself enjoy the moment, enjoying Angelica’s presence.

In the middle of the dancing, Angelica yells into Carol’s ear, “Chasing that spider bitch was the most fun I’ve had in weeks! We need to kick bad guy--bad girl--asses again!”

Carol tries to shut her up, glancing around for Hank. But Hank’s eyes train in on Carol and Angelica, frowning. Damn his hearing. Well that’s going to be a problem. Hank’s not doing the vigilante thing, anymore. Ever since he joined Emma’s little club, he’s been toeing a line, helping by not helping, keeping mutants out of the news. They’re all supposed to be doing that.

Angelica’s clearly violating that rule. Emma will find out, because Hank will tell her. Angelica’s going to be in trouble, but she’s a big girl. Is in fact, an adult while Carol’s still only seventeen.

So Carol lets it go, and they dance, and sing along. Angelica doesn’t know the words, but that doesn’t stop her picking up the choruses and having a good time with it all. And suddenly that attraction for Angelica comes back as they bounce and move to the music. It wasn’t there a minute ago, and now it is. Carol feels a moment of intense shame before recognizing it for what it is.

Her head whips about the room, looking in every corner, trying to find that small halo of blonde curls in the crowd. Angelica forgotten, Carol darts to the speaker stack near the stage, and climbs on top of it. Her head pulses angrily with the beat of the music coming from electric guitars this close to the speakers, but she ignores it and lets her eyes rove around the room from a higher vantage.

Hank hangs out with John Proudstar at the edge of the club, smiling and joking. Carol has never seen John laugh before. Tony tries to dance with Angelica, and actually makes a little headway. Manuel and Clarice are in the pit, along with Kelly, who looks out of place but embracing the chaos. Maria and Rhodey are still gone. 

The door to the club opens, and in the haze of a streetlight outside, a blonde, curly-haired woman departs, disappearing as the door closes. Carol didn’t see her face, but she knows. She can feel it. The pheromones, Jess called it.

Carol hops off the speaker stack, tumbles into a group of the punks, who push back and an impromptu mosh pit starts even though the music doesn’t really warrant it. She shoves through, elbowing and pushing, until she gets to the other side, while some employee yells at her from the bar to stay off the equipment, he doesn’t care how much Tony paid for this. 

She barrels outside, sucking in great lungfuls of cool night air, glancing about, trying to figure out where she went. But the street is busy with traffic, taxis and revelers. The sidewalks are full of clubbers, twenty-somethings going for a drink and a dance. Singles ready to mingle. Some go into the club. Most keep moving, looking for different vibes. 

There are long-haired blondes, short-haired brunettes. A curly-headed ginger. Carol feels drunk on the potential of seeing Jessica, but the longer she searches, the more the feeling fades, and she grows sullen.

A sudden inspiration strikes, and she glances up. Jessica can climb walls! Only there are no women holding onto walls like a xenomorph in Aliens, waiting to pounce. No blondes with a smirk for Carol Danvers. 

A hand lands on Carol’s shoulder from behind, and Carol spins, sure it’s Jess.

But it’s Maria with Rhodey just behind her, and Carol’s so defeated that she backs into the outer wall of the club, sinks to the ground, and buries her head between her knees.

She was here! Carol knows it. Can feel it, as sure as she remembers the taste of Jess’s lips, the scent of her shampoo, the glint in her eyes when she’s trying not to laugh at one of Carol’s awful puns. But now she’s gone.

Why is Jess torturing her?

*****

Maria watches as her friend hurts. Unable to help. Unable to truly comfort her. Carol Danvers recently unleashed her raw emotional state to Maria, and Maria’s response was to run away. Well, she has an idea about what caused Carol to dash outside in a panic. She thinks she saw Jessica. Maybe she did. Maybe all this stuff about Jessica being back in town, getting in trouble with the law, breaking into places, is true. If it is, what does that mean?

Maria doesn’t know. But she can’t stand here with her boyfriend and do nothing. She whispers to Rhodey, far enough from Carol that she can’t overhear, “Either Flygirl over there is losing it, or Jessica Drew is ghosting her for some reason.”

“Really? She’s back in town? I thought they were tight.” Rhodey runs a hand along his chin, thinking.

“Yeah. Listen, I can’t tell you everything, and I know you’re not into the whole vigilante shtick, but we’re gonna help Carol.”

“How are we gonna do that?”

Maria runs her arm along his back, hugs him close. “We’re going to look for Jessica, too. And if we find her first, we can figure out what the hell is going on, before Carol loses everything.”

She can do this much for Carol. They can try, at least. She whispers, “Flygirl’s had my back at every turn, babysat for me more times than she’ll admit... and I’m pretty sure she got me into the ROTC program.”

“I thought it was that basketball program you told me about?”

“Yeah, maybe. But the timing is strange.” She’s never asked Carol about it, is afraid to know for sure. But this friendship has been a little lopsided, and maybe now it’s time for Maria Rambeau to pay back Carol. To be the friend she claims she wants to be.

“I’m in,” Rhodey says. “When do we start?”

“As soon as I calm Carol down. She doesn’t get to know.” Rhodey nods, and Maria wonders how she got so lucky. If only Monica liked him a little more.

*****

Jessica Drew ducks below the lip of the club roof when Carol thinks to look up. She breathes heavily, but Carol doesn’t call out to her this time. Doesn’t see her?

One can hope. This was a stupid move, going out to spy on Carol during her birthday party. But she had to see Carol again. The churning anguish in her own gut at not being able to look the love of her life in the eyes, of not being able to say hello, to hold her and whisper it’s all okay now… It gets to be too much.

Her pager vibrates suddenly, and she pulls it from her hoodie pouch, glancing at it in the darkness. Different number, same code every time. Taskmaster.

She scoffs and gets to her feet, risks a last glance down, sees Carol crouched, holding herself, and Jessica’s heart wants to die. Maybe deserves it, for the pain she’s causing. How did she know Jess was there, anyway? Maria Rambeau and James Rhodes stand nearby, whispering. Carol can almost pick out what they’re saying with her new, enhanced hearing. She’s pretty sure she hears her name. What has Carol told Maria? How cozy had they gotten in the last year?

The pager buzzes again and Jessica zaps it with a little bioelectric energy, which causes it to spark and smoke before shorting out. “I’m coming,” she whispers, and dashes across the rooftop, weaving around HVAC units and other structures she’s vaguely familiar with. When she reaches the gap over the alley, she leaps, relishing the power of her jump as she crosses the gap to the next low building, lands in a roll and keeps running. This is her favorite part. Freedom. Energy. She can go anywhere. Do anything. 

And instead she does questionable things for questionable people. She shoves that away as she leaps, lands, runs. Climbs a taller building, crests the roof, and throws herself upwards, toward her apartment building.

The burning pitch in her stomach is jealousy. At watching Carol enjoy herself, cozy up to that big redheaded bimbo. The one who chased her across the rooftops. What did that woman have that Jess didn’t? 

She answers her own question: availability. She’s around. She shows up for vigilante night. She’s gorgeous. It’s too much, watching Carol with another woman, seeing that same flushed cheek normally reserved for Jess.

She latches on to the wall of her apartment building, and climbs to her story, to her window. It has a simple, but hidden, catch on the outside, so that she can let herself in whenever she wants.

The window slides open easily, and she drops the hood on her hoodie, shaking out the curls of her hair. It’s growing fast. Maybe before too long she can color it and reclaim that part of herself.

She goes to the phone, and ducks under a fist as she nearly feels someone approaching from behind.

She sweeps for the legs, and her attacker lazily hops back, kicks out when Jessica stands, and barely misses as Jessica dodges back, clings to the wall for leverage and throws herself at him.

A grinning skull greets her. Taskmaster.

He sidesteps her and uses her momentum against her, flipping her onto her back and putting a boot to her throat. 

“Sloppy,” he says from underneath the skull mask. Always a skull. 

She struggles to draw a breath, and says, “You don’t normally come into my home.”

“And your enemies will not be as nice. Always be aware, Arachne.”

He lets up on her neck, and she coughs, drawing breath. She rolls onto her stomach and pushes up into a crouch before standing.

“Yes, sir, Taskmaster, sir.”

He settles into a casual stance against the door frame into the kitchenette, his eyes gleaming inside the mask. She’s never seen his face, and she isn’t sure she wants to. He’s her handler, and he’s scary good at all this infiltration, spy, sneaking about stuff. Probably good at killing. He’s just plain scary at times.

“Why are you here?” she asks. “I was about to call.” She tosses him the pager, and he snatches it from the air, examines it, and throws it at the trash can, where it sinks into the bag without him even looking.

Infuriating.

“Stop breaking your pagers.”

“They’re cheap.”

“I assure you, they are not cheap to procure new ones with the security and other tech inside.”

She shrugs. “Do you have my next mission? I thought I was going to hit another lab tomorrow.”

“Change of plans, Arachne. The labs around Boston are too hot, now that the police have a bad video capture of you.”

She hasn’t heard about that, and she stiffens. “I disabled all the ones at Roxxon.”

“Yes, well, public streets sometimes have cameras, too. And when you get in very public fights with flame-tossing mutants, it tends to cause a stir.”

“So I’m burned?”

Taskmaster scoffs. “Hardly. We just have to direct you elsewhere while the heat dies.”

“What did you have in mind?”

She can’t see his mouth, but the way he stares at her and his head cocks to the side a little, she would swear the man is grinning under the mask.

“It’s earlier than planned, but we have some intel that someone will be returning to the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility outside Boston soon. Someone you’re acquainted with, and with whom we’ll conveniently put you back into contact.” He slides a dossier out of his jacket and hands it to her. “In two weeks.”

The S.H.I.E.L.D. facility? With people who know her? With Carol? She’s so taken with the notion that her worries about what Hydra wants with all that stolen tech, the files, and the biological weapons dies away. 

She asks, “Does that mean--”

“Yes. It’s time for the resurrection of Jessica Drew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time, but Carol and Jessica are this much closer to reconnecting!


	7. Searching For Jess In All The Wrong Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Rhodey search for Jessica, and get more than they bargained for. Jess has a run in with a psychopath. Carol reunites with someone from her past.

The going has been tough for Maria and James. James doesn’t really believe that Jessica is back, but he doesn’t know everything and Maria is straining their relationship asking for trust on a wild goose chase.

The first couple of nights ended in disappointment. They canvassed Boston, starting around the club, but no one had seen Jessica, or anyone who thought they had was wrong. The third night, James had to work, and Maria wanted to go solo, but he convinced her to take Hank with her. That night had been a little better, but Maria and Hank didn’t know each other well, and it was awkward being without James or Carol to buffer the friendship.

The fourth night, Maria and James actually asked Carol to babysit, so they could “go on date night”. Carol agreed to keep Monica, but in the back of Maria’s head, she knew Carol only wanted to go searching for Jessica, too. Maria selfishly wanted to be the one to find her for Carol. To bring her back into the fold and provide her best friend what she most desired.

But night after night, they are coming up empty. A week into the searching, Maria rolls her neck and shoulders waiting for James to show the picture of Jessica around, unsuccessfully once again.

He comes back, shrugging, and hands her the picture, then massages her neck and shoulders for her.

“Mmm, that’s nice, but we don’t have time to play grab ass,” Maria says.

“Maybe we should make time instead of hunting for a girl who doesn’t seem to be here, or want to be found if she is.”

“We’re not having this argument again, Jim.”

He sighs, and she leans back into him. “If she’s in the city, we’ll find her. If not, then we can say that Carol’s maybe cracking up a bit. But I feel like I owe it to her.”

“You don’t owe anyone anything, ‘Ria,” he says, holding her close in the heart of Boston. They must be a bit of a sight, all this public display of affection, because Maria catches some stinkeye from a middle-aged white woman across the street, who promptly looks away and walks on when Maria stares back at her, defiant.

“You wanna go fight her?” James asks.

“Might be fun, but around here we’re liable to get arrested for looking at white folk funny.”

“Come on, we can keep asking.” Maybe they need a sketch of her with short blonde hair, as Carol described her. Hair throws people off more than expected.

But it doesn’t take long, and finally a college age guy points them in the direction of a coffee shop where he says he hit on a girl with a curly little pixie cut, green eyes and legs for days, who creeped him out after she turned him down. Just something off about her vibe, he says. This sounds more fruitful than anything else, so they find the late-night coffee bar and stake it out with a couple cups of surprisingly good coffee.

“You really think it’s gonna be this easy?” James asks, sighing contentedly over his steaming mug.

“I think we needed a break, either way, and this is as good as any.” She doesn’t, though, think any of this is going to pan out. Even if Jessica is truly in the city, hiding for some reason, it’s not like they’re private investigators, or have deep pockets to bribe answers from people. They’re just a couple of part-time military brats doing their best.

People come and go, a pretty particular beatnik type of crowd, round glasses, turtlenecks, and at least one person actually wearing a beret. They get a lot of looks, but no one bothers them, which is fine by Maria. The sign on the door suggests there are poetry readings nightly, but no one’s reading right now. About the time that Maria’s cup is drained, and she’s thinking about getting a second or calling it a night, their luck breaks.

A short, curly-haired girl walks in the front door of the coffee shop, eyes landing on the two of them immediately, and sits down at their table without a single word.

And stares at them nervously.

Maria breaks the silence as Rhodey figures out what just happened. “What the unholy hell, Jess?”

Jessica Drew hisses in a whisper, “Don’t use that name here.”

“It’s your name, though,” James says, mystified that this is happening.

“Not here, it isn’t. You can call me Dee.”

“What is this spy shit?” Maria demands, and Jess--Dee--holds a hand up with widened eyes, a warning.

She says, “Look, I can’t explain any of this to you.”

“I can’t believe Carol wasn’t making it up,” James says. “I thought for sure she was cracked.”

Jess’s lip quivers at mention of Carol. “H-how is she?”

“Losing her damn mind over you,  _ Dee _ ,” Maria shoots back. “What’s going on?”

“I just said I can’t tell you. I wasn’t joking and this isn’t some rebellious game, or phase or whatever. Look, I’m going to be ‘back’ for real, soon. You can’t tell anyone until I am, do you understand? It’s a life or death situation, and I am not in control of it.”

“What did you get yourself into?” Rhodey asks. “Also, you look good.” Maria nearly elbows him in the ribs, but Jess cracks the tiniest smile.

“I’m healthy, if that’s what you’re implying. Have been for a while.”

Maria scoffs. “And haven’t been able to do so much as call, or send a postcard.”

“I did what I could, when I could!” Jess hisses. Maria remembers Jessica Drew, and this girl is different, even though it looks like her, and sounds like her. She’s been gone a year, but it’s like she’s aged five in bearing and appearance.

“How long until you’re ‘back’?” Maria asks.

“Can’t get into specifics. But I will be, and when I do, I need you to keep this to yourself. Every bit of it. I can’t guarantee anything if you don’t.” She bobs her head towards the window to the street, and the middle-aged woman that had been staring Maria down is now standing there, in profile, eyes watching their little group.

Just what in the hell had Jess gotten herself into?

Jessica stands, and Maria jumps out of her chair, thinking she should block the door or something, but Jessica glares at her, and the expression on her face is grim, determined, and a little scary, if Maria is being truthful. She sits back down, and the woman outside visibly relaxes. 

Jessica says, “Wait a few minutes, finish your drinks, and then go home. Stop waving that pic around.” Her voice lowers to a whisper as she leans over the table. “You’re being watched. If you run into me again, my name is Ariadne Hyde. Dee for short.”

Maria doesn’t know how to respond, so she does the only thing that makes any sense, and plays along. “Sure. Good seeing you,  _ Dee _ .”

Jessica Drew wraps a scarf around the lower half of her face, hugs her bright red leather jacket closer about her chest, and disappears from the big plate-glass window in front of the coffee shop. A few moments later, the woman watching them departs the other direction, as if she has not been standing there for several minutes keeping an eye on the situation.

“That was the weirdest shit,” James says. “Should we, I don’t know, follow her?”

“Hell yes.”

They scramble out of the coffee shop, checking to see if the woman who went right is there, waiting, and then they follow the path Jessica would have had to take after walking away, but no matter how fast they run, and who they show the picture to on the path, no one has seen her.

“She can’t just disappear,” James says. “She’s not a mutant or something, is she?”

Maria shakes her head no. Something about this is all wrong, but at the end of the day, they found Jessica damn Drew. They confirmed Carol’s story.

And if she was truthful about anything, Maria hopes it was the part about being back for real soon. For Carol’s sake.

“I think we have to let it go, James. Something feels real off about Carol’s girl, and we had best stay out of it for now.”

“After all that, after we find the damn girl, we’re just giving up?”

“We did what we set out to do. Confirmed she’s alive and in town. And I don’t know about you, but I got a real bad vibe the way she was talking. She’s in bad with someone, and if we’re on their radar now, we might be targets.”

James scoffs now. “This isn’t a spy thriller, ‘Ria.”

“Isn’t it?” she mutters. She isn’t so sure at this point. Not with what she knows about Carol’s internship. What she suspects about Hank. What she thinks is going on behind closed doors at Hanscom Air Force Base.

A lot of weird occurrences lately. And it all adds up to nothing good.

Jessica leaves the cafe, knowing she can’t go back there until she returns as Jessica Drew, for real, and frowns. She really liked that place.

She walks until she hits an alley, then darts down it and scales the concrete wall with her wallcrawling abilities. Within seconds she is on the roof, hiding. She signals across the street, to an empty apartment in a building with sightlines on the coffee shop. With her enhanced vision, she sees the rifle lower and a masked face nod before vanishing into the dark apartment. She shakes with fear and disgust, her stomach wanting to vomit up everything it’s ever had inside it.

But she holds it in. They’re protecting their investment, that’s all. And she was able to de-escalate the situation. What might have happened if they’d pushed it, she can’t think about.

Then she hears Maria saying something on the street below. She peeks over the edge to catch her and James talking about her. The rifle appears in the window once more, aimed straight at Carol’s friends. Jessica waves frantically, willing him to cancel, to pull back. She can see the mask even in the darkness. That bullseye target on his forehead. 

Maria and James depart after a hushed conversation about this being a spy thriller, and Jessica heaves another sigh. She drops behind the lip of the roof, fighting back anxious tears. Within minutes, the Hydra operative known as Bullseye hops over the fire escape ladder nearby. Jess could hear him climbing, despite how stealthy he is.

She stands, dusting herself off, as he approaches. He’s a few years older than her, and Taskmaster told her not to piss him off because the bastard was unstable.

His grin under the mask confirms that for her. “Thanks for not shooting them,” she says, hoping to placate him.

“I had orders.” He shrugs and laughs. “Follow Arachne’s lead. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, at all.”

She stiffens. “I had this under control. Nobody had to get hurt tonight.”

“Listen, girlie,” he says, leaning his head slightly to stare her down, “I don’t hurt people. I simply… remove them from the playing field.”

She thinks she’s going to be sick again. “Why would Hydra need an assassin?”

Now he roars with laughter, doubling over. The case with the rifle on his back bobbles precariously, but he settles it when he stands up straight again. “First of all, Hydra protects its assets. Second, who says I’m an official member?”

“You’re a gun for hire?”

“I’m a sure thing, sweetie. Chin up, little spider. You’ve hurt people in our line of work, haven’t you?”

“Only when I had to.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d put it all on you learning real quick how often you’ll have to choose between killing and dying.”

“You’re not a betting man?” 

“Only in games of skill. And you’re missing that key ingredient at this point.”

Jessica bristles at this jerk, but she knows better than to goad a man with a gun, even though she thinks she might be able to take him. She’s enhanced, after all.

“So you’re freelance,” she says instead. 

“I prefer free agent.” He grins again, and looks over the roof’s edge. “You know, I can see them all the way down the street, at that bus stop a few blocks away.”

Jessica glances over the edge and follows his fingers, and she can also spot them waiting at the bus stop. “So?” she says, “I can see them, too.”

“Yeah, but if I handed you this rifle, you couldn’t hit ‘em. It would be just so simple.”

She swallows the lump in her throat. “Well, you didn’t need to. You shouldn’t need to where they’re concerned.”

“Only because Taskmaster says you’re going public soon.”

“That’s right. No more of this false name stuff.”

“Well, ‘cept for Arachne. You get to keep that one ‘til they day you die, in service to the many-headed leader. This is why I contract out.”

“They saved my life,” she says defensively. “I owe them.”

“Sure, sure, everybody owes somebody. Like your fearless skullboy, he owes me for tonight.”

“Even though you didn’t have to… you know.”

“Blow the brains out the back of some skulls? Nah, I get paid either way.”

Jessica forces the gorge rising in her throat back down. This isn’t what she signed up for, but the deeper she gets, the more she realizes she should have known better. Hydra Supreme, cloaks of secrecy, theft of all this stuff, some of it extremely dangerous. Hydra gives her everything she wants, but it extracts a high blood price.

Is it too high to pay? To be alive? To have these abilities? She forces a grin she doesn’t feel.

“Well, maybe next time, Bullseye.”

“One can hope, little spider. One can hope.” He matches her grin. It sends shivers deep into Jessica’s soul.

Carol has had zero luck and almost as little opportunity to search for Jessica. Between studying for finals, and work, and internship, and a painful need to keep attending classes, she is feeling especially frustrated these days. To know Jess is out there, her Drawed is somewhere nearby, and not be able to see her, to hold her. It drives Carol to distraction.

It’s been over two weeks since she last thought she saw Jessica. She’s gotten her ass kicked by Agent May, poked and prodded by Mar-Vell testing her limits as a human-Kree hybrid, worked until she was ready to drop from exhaustion at Ice Dream, Inc. She’s fallen asleep with books in her lap, on her face, facedown in a history textbook. She has a nasty papercut on her cheek from one last night, and this one didn’t heal overnight like most of her small hurts do.

Stupid papercuts.

So on this particular Tuesday in May, Carol requests the day off from Emma’s shop, so she can get some last-minute studying in before the first round of finals starts in a couple days. She grabs her books and asks to borrow the car after school, but her father needs it for some work emergency, and Carol rides the bus to downtown Beverly, where she can study in peace at the local library.

On her way into the building, however, a familiar and frustrating voice calls out, “Carol?”

She tenses up immediately, and turns to see Johnny freaking Storm jogging to catch up to her from down the street. Johnny Storm.

“Thought that was you!” he says with a grin as he stops in front of her. It’s been a year, and he’s a little taller, more put together. Instead of his letter jacket, he’s wearing a polo with a stylized 4 on the breast pocket, and his hair is smoothed back. He looks like a prep school kid instead of a public school jock, and instead of a snarky grin, he seems genuinely glad to see her.

Which puts Carol on edge immediately. “What the hell are  _ you  _ doing here?”

He laughs good-naturedly and holds up his hands. He’s gained muscle since she last saw him, too. He looks good. “We’re back in town for some emergency with my sister. She got called in to consult. So I’m knocking around the old stomping ground, catching up with people.”

“And your first instinct was to get all buddy buddy with your old nemesis Carol?”

“Aww, come on. I wasn’t that bad, was I?” When she deadpans him, his smile falls away briefly. “Yeah, okay. I deserve that. I was a pretty royal shit, huh?”

But suddenly this nice guy act doesn’t matter anymore. The more important thing is that he said his sister was back. 

She throws her arms around Johnny, who first reacts like she’s about to throw punches, but then laughs and hugs her back. “You’re an asshole, Johnny, but it’s great to see you, I got to go!”

She lets go of him and sprints away, looking for a pay phone and leaving behind a very confused Johnny. She finds one a couple blocks away, and with fingers shaking, she calls Tony’s car phone. Luckily, he picks up and isn’t too far away.

He pulls up in his Mustang Boss, revs the engine, and she gets in. “Take me to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, Tony.”

“How illegal you wanna get there?” he asks, not even questioning her. Good guy.

“Just drive normal. But get me there.”

The drive is interminable, even at the rate he takes streets and the back roads. She’s too nervous to talk much, and keeps repeating to herself, “Please, please, please.”

Finally, a couple minutes from the security gate, Tony clears his throat. “Okay, I gotta ask. Are you flying today or something?”

“I don’t wanna jinx it, Tony. I saw Johnny Storm in town, and that means Dr. Storm might be here. I need to talk to her about Jess, see if she’s heard anything.”

“Ah.” He shuts up. He knows when to let her have her Jess moments. She hasn’t told him the truth yet, but it’s got to be time. He’s been such a steadfast friend, and boys rarely stick around for this long without wanting a little something extra.

“I promise I’ll tell you all about it, later.”

“You want me to stick around for the drive home?” She can hear in his voice that he’s got plans he’s willing to cancel for her, and she won’t let him do that.

“I’ll figure out my ride home. Honest, Tony, you’re way too good to me.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

She elbows him as they pull up to the gates, and she hops out before he can keep bantering. “Thanks again, Tone. I’ll see you later!”

She closes the door on his reply, but she’s too full of nervous energy to apologize. Instead she goes up to the soldier waiting with a clipboard and a rifle. Another new face. So many these days. She flashes her badge, signs in, and the soldier eyes it and holds a hand up as she starts to move forward, to her cart positioned on the other side of the gate.

He says, “Hold up. You’re not scheduled to be on base again ‘til tomorrow. What are you doing here on your off-day?”

“I’m here to see a friend. Am I not allowed here in my off-time? I have a badge and everything.”

“I mean, I guess, technically that’s true. Hold on, lemme call it in.” He turns away and starts speaking low and quick.

She sucks in a breath and sighs as Tony is already driving away. She stands there with arms crossed, holding her bag full of books and thinking about how many bullets they’d fill her with if she just ran for it.

Then the soldier listens to something in his earpiece and turns back to her. “Okay, you’re cleared. Next time, call ahead if you plan to show up on an off-day, yeah?”

“You got it, Private!” She salutes him and walks past, hops in her cart, and speeds off. She gets nervous suddenly. She could have called ahead, asked if Dr. Storm were there. She could have asked the soldier at the gate to radio in and ask.

What if Carol gets in there and it’s not here Susan was called in to consult? What if she has bad news about Jessica after all this time, and the things she’s seen are not real? Just projecting her desires. What if Dr. Storm tells her she’s heard nothing?

There’s only a couple ways this doesn’t shatter Carol’s heart into a million pieces, and the closer she gets to the infirmary and medical offices, the more convinced she becomes that she’s made a stupid mistake, and hyped herself up for no reason.

She parks at the infirmary, and sees a familiar car. Dr. Storm’s blue sedan. She’s here!

Carol forces herself to calm down. To prepare herself for disappointment.

She walks inside, using her badge to clear her way past the entrance and through the interior doors. Not much is happening here, and she’s spent almost no time in the infirmary since Dr. Storm left. Her last memories are wrapped up in her last moments with Jessica. That night when it all came out. When she went inside Jessica’s room, not as friends but as more. 

She approaches the executive suites, where Dr. Storm’s office is located, and finds it empty. The computer blinks from recent use on her desk. 

She goes down to the physical therapy room, which doubles as a place to run various tests on people. Already she can hear Dr. Storm talking through samples she’s gathering, collecting blood, saliva, cheek cells, hair. It will be good to see the woman who gave her such a hard time, even when she tells Carol that she’s heard nothing about Jessica Drew. That she’s here for an unrelated case, probably one of the badly injured long-term care patients she had.

She stands outside the door to the physical therapy room. It’s not real until she walks through this door. The disappointment is not real. So she hesitates.

Then she takes a deep breath, and knocks.

“Come on in,” Dr. Storm’s voice says, and Carol reaches for the handle on the door. 

The click of the door opening is loud, so loud. And sound dies after it. The blood rushing to her ears drowns it all out. The tears that rush up to her eyes threaten to steal her vision. Her breath dies in her lungs and she forgets how to breathe.

Dr. Storm glances her way, a big smile on her face as she recognizes Carol, and nods to her to keep coming in. Next to Susan, sitting on the observation table in a hospital gown and blessed little else, is Jessica Drew.

Here. In the flesh. Not crawling up a wall. Not staring at her with shame and anguish. Not doing preternaturally fast cartwheels over attempted trips.

The Jessica Drew that Carol has been looking for. That she’s finally found.

And before she can truly register it, Jessica leaps off the table, throws herself at Carol, and pulls her into a hug. Their bodies slot together, and Carol holds Jessica’s naked back, her short curly head. 

“I’m so sorry, Carol,” she whispers. “I wanted to come back sooner.”

Carol can’t speak. She’s a storm of emotions. Relief, anger, love, betrayal, surprise. She doesn’t know which one to focus on, can’t focus at all, with Jessica in her arms once more.

A year. She’s been without Jessica for a year. And that, of everything, decides her.

She squeezes Jess tighter, sobs into her neck as they hold each other in the doorway, while Dr. Storm politely looks anywhere else.

“Jess,” Carol finally manages. “It’s really you?”

“Yeah, Care Bear. It’s really me.” The rest can wait. The shit that Jess has gotten herself into can come later. Right now, this is enough. This is more than she has ever hoped to have again.

She has her Jess back. Her Drawed. Everything else could rot on the vine compared to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're ready for some angsty ass angst next chapter! Carol and Jess have finally found their way back to each other, but at what cost?


	8. Carol And Jess, And All The Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Jessica reunite, and Carol isn't ready to contend with everything that means.

Carol doesn’t know how long they stand there, held in each other’s arms, but her tears dry and the feeling in her chest lessens. The feeling that if Carol lets her go, Jess will fade away like a mirage, a cruel joke. Maybe it’s safe to let her go now.

Carol pulls back from Jess, slowly, gently. Ready to grab her back in if it seems she’ll vanish. It’s absurd, but so was not having Jess in her life for a year. Of wondering every minute of every day if Jessica Drew was okay, if she was even alive.

Dr. Storm clears her throat, and Carol sniffs back a tear as she holds Jess at arm’s length. “Sorry, Doc,” she says, stifling a laugh. Jessica smiles. This is real. 

Dr. Storm waves a hand and stands. “Yes, well, I had intended to see if you knew she was back in town, alive and well, but you must have a sixth sense when it comes to your friend.”

“Dr. Storm,” Jess says, “Can I have some time with Carol before you stick me with every needle in the lab?”

“Of course, Miss Drew. I expect whatever incredible treatments you receive now will not sour on you in another twenty minutes.”

Jess shakes her head. “No more treatments. I’m all the way cured.”

That surprises both Carol and Susan. “For real?” Carol asks. “Like, for really real?”

“Are you certain about that, Jessica?” Doctor Storm reiterates. Jess nods. “Well, that is certainly something. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what exactly your chances were with experimental treatments.”

“Yeah, no, I’m aware it was the longest of long shots. If it was a football play, it was a hail mary the length of the entire field, maybe two fields.”

Carol chuckles. “Look at you, pretending like you know anything about football.”

Carol leads Jess over to a small couch, and they sit down, Jess doing her best to cover her backside with her hospital gown.

Susan Storm says, “I’ll return in a bit. For what it’s worth, Carol, I am quite happy to be wrong in this case.”

Jess’s eyes narrow at that, and watch Dr. Storm as she leaves the room.

“What’s that about?”

“You met her last year, her bedside manner has always been next to the grave.” When Jess looks back to Carol, Carol’s face warms. “You look good with the short natural look, but I kinda miss the thick black curls.”

Jess has the good grace to cover her smile. “I’ll get the bushel back, don’t you fret.” 

Carol gets serious for a moment. “So tell me everything. Where you went, what you did, how you got wrapped up in that thing the other night, the fact that you have--” She mimics climbing with her fingertips, making suction cups sounds with her mouth.

Jessica’s eyes widen. “I can’t tell you any of this here. Can we leave it at ‘I made a deal, died on the table, and when I came back, I was different’?”

Carol bristles. She understands; whatever Jess has gotten herself into is certainly not something she should be talking about on a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, where you never know who has ears on you. But still Carol is annoyed. They shared everything before Jessica went away, and the moment they’re reunited, Jessica’s keeping secrets.

But Carol nods. Nothing should sour this moment. At least not yet. It’s too nice, too surreal, having Jessica’s hands in Carol’s hands again. To feel that ease, that comfort, she has never felt with another person. To remember soft skin, and green eyes, and experience them as real and not memory. 

Something occurs to Carol. “Where are your glasses?”

“Oh! I… don’t actually need them anymore? Part of the package, I guess.”

“Lucky. All I got were mental conditioning and stronger punches.”

“Carol--”

“I know, later. Shouldn’t you wear glasses anyway, just for show?”

“Probably. I’ll look into it.”

“So are you coming back to school next year?”

Jess shakes her head. “A lot of things have changed for me, Care Bear.”

Carol nods. She suspected this, but it hurts to hear all the same. “Where’s your dad?”

Jess stands, and Carol can’t help catching a pale butt cheek before Jess closes the gown and blushes a little. “He had to stay behind. Lots of work to do.”

“So you’re just… in the city? Living by yourself?” Jess glances at her, and Carol waves a hand. “Yeah, no, I got it. Later.” What the hell are they supposed to talk about if literally everything in Jess’s life is off-limits right now?

So they catch up on Carol’s life, what is safe to talk about here. It has its moments, but the most excitement in Carol’s life since Jess left was Jess returning. Carol is sure that the bombastic way Jess re-entered Carol’s life, flying out of a window on a burglary and climbing a wall like a spider, is much closer to her norm.

After Carol talks for a while, Jess nods thoughtfully and smirks. “So Maria’s your bestie now, and you expect me to be cool with that?”

And that hits Carol wrong. “You don’t really get a say in who my best friend is now.”

Jessica’s shoulders tense up and she shrugs. “Sorry. I guess I’m rusty on the flirting.”

Carol doesn’t think it’s funny, though. “Jess… I’m so glad you’re back. I really am. But it was hell without you. Never knowing if you were alive. Unable to hear your voice, see your beautiful face, listen to your stomach gurgle hungrily even after stuffing it full of fries.”

“Carol, I know. I wanted to call you every second of every day I was aware enough.”

“Was it bad?” Carol asks. She’s afraid of the answer, hates herself for thinking how rough she had it without Jess. But Jess was off getting treatments that in all likelihood should have killed her. If that was like actual torture and fear of death hanging over her head for months and months, what were Carol’s emotional scars compared to that? What right did Carol have to think of her pain compared to Jessica’s?

Dr. Storm knocks on the door and lets herself in. “Sorry to interrupt, but I really do need to get on with my tests.”

Carol sees the clock on the wall, realizes it has been over an hour since she found Jess, and Dr. Storm has been more than patient. “Sorry, yes, is it okay if I stick around until you’re done?”

“Fine with me,” Jess says, but Susan Storm shakes her head.

“Director Carter wants a word, otherwise I’d be fine with it. And do you have a moment before you head out, Carol?”

“Sure,” Carol says, hugging Jess and pecking her on the cheek nervously. “I’ll be back soon. You’re not gonna disappear on me again, right, Drawed?”

Jess sucks in a tiny breath, and her lips curl into a smirk. “I didn’t know how much I missed hearing that,” she says quietly. Louder, she says, “Not if I can help it. Here to stay, Care Bear.” Carol goes to stand, but Jess grabs her arm and yanks her back to the couch, putting her hands on either side of Carol’s face. She pulls her in and Carol lets it happen. A proper kiss sweeps Carol away, and something deep inside her knocks loose. A tension, a worry, that had taken up residence in her heart, never knowing if she’d be able to do that again. It just slides away, and when Jess lets her go, Carol forgets to breathe for a moment, then blushes deeply, furiously, when she realizes Dr. Storm is watching them with a little bit of a surprised expression.

But not too surprised. Carol’s face is a stupefied grin, and she stands, feeling floaty and weird. She hasn’t had this inside her for an entire year, and now that it’s back, she never wants to let it go again.

And if there’s a god, she never will. She’s afraid to say anything lest it break this spell, and follows Dr. Storm out of the room. A last glance at Jess sees the girl doing her best to hide the giggle, and failing. It’s crushingly cute, and Carol has to resist the urge to go back to her right then.

The door closes behind her, and Dr. Storm walks her down the hall, away from Jess. Carol notes that there is an armed soldier outside the door, where before there was none. Makes sense, Carol supposes. After a brief exhalation of exasperated breath, Dr. Storm folds her arms in front of her, and stares at Carol. 

“What?” Carol asks, defensive.

“Did your internship days change?”

“Huh?”

Dr. Storm sighs, and Carol suddenly remembers what about this woman bristled her so. “It’s Tuesday. You weren’t here on Tuesdays last I checked.”

“Still not. It’s Johnny’s fault, honestly.”

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, you know him as your brother?” Susan spares Carol the tiniest of humored smiles, and Carol realizes she is happy to see Susan. “I saw him in Beverly, and once he said you were in town for a consult, I knew I needed to come see you, ask if you’d heard anything about Jess.”

Dr. Storm sighs again, but waves it away. “At least you didn’t get in a fight with him.”

“Crazy as it sounds, whatever he’s been up to with you in New York, he didn’t strike me as the asshole type anymore.”

“Oh, he’s still going to frustrate you while we’re back.”

“How long?”

“A month, perhaps the summer. Johnny is interning with Dr. Richards and I, and we’re at an impasse while he waits for a series of grants to come through.”

Carol considers. “And you just happened to get a call that Jessica Drew was back and needed a full battery of tests?”

Dr. Storm shakes her head again. “I was already scheduled to come back for a brief consult on some of my other patients. Director Carter called in a favor when Miss Drew arrived in a taxi late last night, and I was called in this morning since I know the patient’s history.”

“You’re just as surprised as I am that she’s alive and well, yeah?” Carol asks.

“Quite frankly, you’re not surprised enough, Miss Danvers.”

“What do you mean?” Carol wonders how much Susan knows.

But Susan says, “You clearly don’t understand the true depth of her circumstances when she left. She should be dead, Carol.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because I’m not so sure.”

Carol sighs. “Sorry, I’m glad you’re back and all, Dr. Storm, but your bluntness can take a long walk off a short pier.”

“Ever the way with words, Miss Danvers. It hardly matters. Look, I just wanted to really impress upon you the severity of the situation. Whatever treatments Jessica received, they’re a scientific marvel.”

“Most people call it a miracle.”

“Most people are infants.” Dr. Storm turns away. “Go see to Director Carter. Jessica will be here when you’re done.”

“Promise?”

“Goodbye, Carol Danvers.”

Carol doesn’t particularly like that goodbye, but she waves bye and heads to the administration building to have a chat. It doesn’t take long to drive over, and she waves hello to some Airmen she’s not precisely friendly with, but who have accepted her in the interim as a current fixture on the base.

In Director Carter’s office, Peggy Carter is just hanging up the phone as Carol taps on the glass door. She notes Carol and waves her in.

She retrieves a bottle of water and offers one to Carol, who accepts. “You wanted to see me, Director?”

“I liked you more when you thought I was just some middle manager,” Peggy Carter says in her crisp British accent. Her face is drawn and lined, though, more than the last few times Carol has seen her.

“That was a dirty trick, with all due respect.” 

Peggy favors her with a small grin. “Fair enough, Miss Danvers. I understand that you somehow figured out your friend Jessica was back on base, and came running.”

Word travels fast. “I didn’t know she was here. I knew Dr. Storm was back, and I came to ask her if she’d heard anything. Happy coincidence, I guess.” She shrugs and takes a swig of her water, then drinks most of it because she didn’t realize how thirsty she is. 

“And you knew Susan had returned how?”

“Her brother happened to see me in town, and I knew he went with her, so when he confirmed she was in town for a consult, I just knew I needed to check.” 

“That all tracks, I suppose,” Peggy says, making some notes on a notepad nearby, and smiles when she sees Carol eyeing the notes. “Oh, this is nothing about you or your friend. I find if I don’t write reminders for myself for certain curmudgeonly phone conversations, I simply forget them. Out of spite or old age, who’s to say?”

Carol smiles. “So are you just here to dress me down for showing up unannounced on an off-day?”

Peggy gives Carol one of her signature eyebrow-raised frowns of disapproval, and shakes her head. “You’re free to come and go with your clearance, Carol. No, I wanted to ask you if you had heard of Jessica’s father’s whereabouts. He hasn’t returned with her, and she hasn’t said where he is.”

“She hasn’t said anything to me. I talk to Jess’s mom sometimes, though. She’s been worried about Jessica, and we had that in common.” That’s right. Miriam doesn’t know yet. That’ll be a moment Carol wouldn’t mind seeing.

“Of course. It’s just something of a security concern, you understand. Jonathan Drew is a well-connected scientist and researcher, and he left most abruptly with his daughter last year. We haven’t heard from him since. Frankly, Jessica’s reappearance and apparent complete recovery is mystifying.”

“Is that why you’re doing all these tests on her?”

“That’s just standard for a checkup, but personally, yes. I wasn’t intimately familiar with her condition or the circumstances of her departure, but Dr. Drew’s presence on base was somewhat out of my control.”

“The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t have a say?”

Peggy deadpan stares Carol down, which only marginally works anymore. Carol’s been under that gaze too many times. “I told you last year that I still have to answer to people. That hasn’t changed. In fact, it’s getting cumbersome.”

Carol doesn’t really know what to say to that, so she defaults to an answer that has gotten a laugh out of Peggy before: “Well, damn the man.”

But Peggy doesn’t smile, or laugh, or really give any indication that she’s heard it. She, in fact, stares off into space, at a point somewhere beyond Carol’s head behind her. Carol, confused, follows her gaze, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. When she turns back, Peggy rubs a hand across her face, and sighs heavily. 

“Everything all right, Director?” Carol asks. 

“What? Oh, of course.” But she looks confused, like when Johnny Storm would get called on in class to answer a question he clearly wasn’t paying attention to. She checks the note she made a minute ago, and smiles at Carol. “Was there anything else you needed?”

The conversational pivot throws Carol off. “Uh, no, you called me in. I wish I could offer you more, but I’m playing catchup with Jess the same as everyone else is going to be.”

Something glimmers in Peggy’s eyes, some recognition, and she smiles. “Well, you’re free to go, of course. Reunions among friends are to be savored.”

Carol’s face warms. Friends. Well, Dr. Storm saw it already, so the cat will likely be out of the bag around here before too long. “I should tell you, for the sake of honesty, Jessica’s not just my best friend, Peggy.”

“Yes, you’re more like sisters, correct?”

Carol chuckles uncomfortably. “Not exactly. She’s my girlfriend. My… partner.” She doesn’t have the language to describe this, and that makes her feel awful. But it is surprisingly easy to admit this to a woman like Peggy Carter. 

Understanding passes over Peggy’s face, and she smiles. “Well, that’s… unexpected. But good for you. The world isn’t going to be kind to you for being a lesbian, but I suppose you already know that.”

“It’s already been far kinder about it than I expected, but yeah, I get you. I keep waiting for some bigot to make the wrong joke and get me expelled.”

“Are you out at school?” Peggy asks, but Carol shakes her head. 

“Too chickenshit to admit it while Jess was gone. Now? Hard to say.”

“Well, do what you feel is right. There may be some bad apples here in S.H.I.E.L.D. with personal bias, but we do not accept that kind of hatred. There is no shame in running to the Director if someone calls you a slur. Rest assured it will get handled.”

“Good to know. I’m gonna go back to Jess now, if that’s okay, but thanks for the chat, Director.”

“I also miss when you felt comfortable enough to call me Peggy.”

Carol shrugs. “When you retire and don’t command experimental quinjets and secret military bases, I’ll call you Peggy again, how’s that?”

Peggy smiles and waves. “It’s a deal. Now go back to your girlfriend; I’m sure Dr. Storm has poked, prodded, drawn blood, taken saliva and tissue samples, hair and anything else Jessica can consent to.”

“I’ve been there for that part, it’s not fun.”

“Go on.” Peggy smiles a last time and waves Carol out of her office.

Carol is sure of two things as she leaves the office: that there’s something a little wrong with Peggy Carter, and that if the things Jess can do now show up in bloodwork, Jess will be in trouble.

She takes it slow until she gets back outside to her cart, and is about to take off when a black sedan pulls in front of her, blocking her in. She sighs and raises a hand to wave them away, but the window rolls down to reveal Melinda May, AKA Goose.

“Hey there, Cheeseburger!” she says cheerily. “What do you think you’re doing on base on a Tuesday?”

Carol sighs again, but hops off the cart to approach May’s window. “Visiting a friend, actually. You remember all that shit about Jessica Drew?”

“I remember you being a sad sack for a while when she left. Is she back?”

Carol smiles and nods. “Back and healthy. Complete recovery.”

May’s smile is wide and genuine, but she quickly covers it with her trademark scowl she’s adopted in the last year. “That’s great news,” she says, a little subdued. “Hey, just so you’re aware, Lawson is also back. You may want to touch base with her while you’re here.”

“Oh yeah?” She had been thinking about talking to Lawson about Jessica. Medical breakthroughs are not always the same as technological breakthroughs, but a facility that can cure an incurable disease might be able to help with Lawson’s ridiculous jet.

May nods. “Yeah, I’m headed over to the hangar to talk Pegasus right now.”

Carol’s insides freeze. “Did she get it working?”

May shrugs. “Anybody’s guess. You can tag along, if you want.”

“No.” It’s automatic. Jess is back and that’s priority. “I’ll catch up with her soon, I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself. Just think, I could be flying that thing soon.”

That thing is an experimental spaceship capable of light speed travel. Carol isn’t sure even Howard Stark and Peggy Carter know the details. The only reason Carol does is because she shares heritage with Dr. Lawson. Mar-Vell.

“Good luck.”

There’s an undercurrent of strangeness with May these days. Sometimes she’s bright and cheery, like now, and other times she’s cold and distant, like she has no time for friendships. Their sparring sessions are still brutal, and despite Carol’s superior strength and endurance due to her Kree half, May still beats her handily every time. She doesn’t even lord it over Carol anymore. 

Maybe the stress of being a secret agent fighter pilot is getting to her? Carol hopes that is not the case. The woman is an unbreakable machine, a pillar of steel that Carol admires. To learn she’s cracking under the pressure or something else would be heartbreaking.

Carol has heard the idiom that you should never meet your heroes, but maybe it’s more about meeting your heroes before they’ve lost the spark. And if May has lost her spark, that will be unfortunate.

Finally, Carol drives back to the infirmary building, hoping that Jess hasn’t been waiting too long for her. When she arrives at the building, she sees a familiar convertible, top down, parked beside Dr. Storm’s car.

Lawson is here, instead of at the hangar where May said she was going to meet her.

Why is everyone so interested in Jessica Drew?

Well, that’s a stupid question. Carol knows why. There’s a ton of questionable stuff in her story, and if her bloodwork reveals anything interesting, she’ll be even more at risk.

But why is Lawson here?

Carol goes inside the building, stomach twisting into a knot with worry. When she hears voices near Dr. Storm’s office, she approaches quietly, hoping to listen in. She stops at a corner, listening to their voices a few doors away, faint but understandable.

“Sorry, Doctors, what are your interests here?” Dr. Storm asks. 

Dr. Anne Weaver’s voice cuts in, “Professional curiosity, Sue. We don’t get many mysteries that aren’t solved by a gun or jet, or a gun on a jet.”

“And you, Wendy?” Susan asks.

“Same, Dr. Storm. And I figured if I showed up here, my intern would pop up before too long.”

“Yes, well, she’s been here already today, if you can believe it.” Dr. Storm’s voice is cagey, distrusting. Hard to tell the difference from her normal disinterested scorn, but Carol remembers it well.

Dr. Weaver clears her throat. “So have the initial results shown anything interesting?”

“Toxicology and radiation pre-screens are clean. Shockingly so.”

“How do you mean?” Lawson asks.

Dr. Storm sighs. “Some form of exotic radiation poisoning was slowly killing Jessica Drew. That’s in my reports. Everything we tried to ease her suffering and lessen the effects were stopgaps at best, wholly ineffective at worst. Now, not only does her body exhibit none of the exotic radiation, it doesn’t show any radiation at all.”

“How is that possible?” Lawson asks.

“I suppose that’s why I’m here on a consult.”

Dr. Weaver asks, “And is everything else normal so far?”

“So far. But the DNA test, the full battery of bloodwork, those will tell me more. If I could do a series of biopsies, believe me, I would. But without a parent or guardian to allow it, I technically shouldn’t even be drawing blood. I drew the line there, though.”

Carol wants to stick around to listen longer, but she feels an urgent need to ask Jessica if the tests are going to show anything strange in her biology. Carol slips back through the building, taking an alternate route through a stairwell to get back to the room she left Jessica in. She smiles and nods at the soldier on guard outside her room, and goes inside without any issues.

She finds Jess jogging on a treadmill, running very fast for a stationary machine.

“Hey!” Jess calls, dropping off the back of the treadmill as it shoves her now unmoving feet rapidly off the tread. She starts to walk with almost perfect balance as soon as her feet hit the ground, which is unnerving, but also really freaking cool.

“That was impressive,” Carol says, forgetting for a moment her haste in getting back here. She shakes her head as Jess smiles. “Hey, you know all the big wigs around here are talking about you?”

Jess shrugs, patting herself down with a towel, though she doesn’t appear to have been sweating. And she’s hardly winded at all. She says, “Sure. We kinda figured that was going to happen. It’s no biggie.”

“Really?” Carol moves in closer and whispers. “What about your, um, new moves? Aren’t those going to show up in any DNA tests or bloodwork?”

“I may have swapped the samples after Dr. Storm collected them,” Jess says. 

“With what?”

“Oh, let’s call them sanitized versions of my tissue and blood. That’s how it was explained to me, anyway. Dr. Storm said I could probably go home tonight. Did you drive?”

Carol realizes she doesn’t currently have a way to get home. That was a consideration she shoved off for later Carol to deal with. Well, later Carol is now Carol, and past Carol was a jerk.

“We’ll figure something out. Are you going to call your mom out here?”

Jess’s head shakes, and her eyes narrow with what Carol knows from past experience is anger. “I’m not ready for that, just yet.”

“Mad she didn’t go with you?”

“Something like that. I don’t wanna talk about it. Can we see if I can get out of here?”

Carol nods. “It’s a school night, but I can probably sneak you in to my room. The whole wall climbing thing would get you to my window easy.”

Jessica frowns, though. “I was hoping to stop hiding now that I’m ‘back’.” She uses air quotes to emphasize her point.

“We’ve still got to talk about that, at some point,” Carol reminds her, and Jess shrugs noncommittally. 

As they’re about to go find Dr. Storm, the woman’s heels clack in the hallway outside, and the door opens to reveal her coming back in, with Dr. Lawson in tow, whose military boots made almost no noise in comparison.

Great. Carol was hoping to get off-base without seeing the woman. Too many things happening at once.

“Hey, there, Ace,” Lawson says, a big grin on her face. “Heard your friend was defying death, figured I’d come check on you, since I knew you’d be here.”

“Found me,” Carol says unenthusiastically. “Airman May said she was on her way to see you at the hangar. You gonna keep that woman waiting to check up on this whole mess?”

“She’ll be fine. I’m more interested in meeting the girl who beat the devil. Hi, you must be Jessica.” Lawson holds her hand out to Jess, and they shake, almost aggressively.

“And you must be--I have no idea,” Jess says, covering the fact that Carol isn’t supposed to be talking about what happens on base.

Lawson grins. “Dr. Wendy Lawson. I guess you could say I’m Carol’s mentor here on base, now that some people have found better things to do with their time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jess says, smirking at Carol. “She’s a lot to deal with, sometimes, isn’t she?”

Lawson laughs, a strong, throaty chuckle. “Should have known Carol wouldn’t be friends with a milksop. You’ve got fire in your veins, kids. Hold onto it as long as you can.” Carol nods, slightly amused by this whole encounter. The barriers between her personal and professional life are vanishing rather fast. 

Jessica looks to Dr. Storm. “So what’s the good word, doc? Am I gonna make it?”

“Picture of health, Miss Drew, which I think you know.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Yes, well, since you showed up unannounced, prompting my return, I have a few questions for you, and then I think you’re free to go. You have no clearance and it’s only the basest courtesy that an armed guard isn’t dogging your every move, so you’ll be escorted out of the gates when it’s time. Carol, if you don’t mind stepping outside for a minute?”

Carol nods and looks to Mar-Vell. “I have something I wanna talk to Wendy about anyway.”

“Dr. Lawson,” Susan reminds her, and Carol shrugs. Some things about Dr. Storm haven’t changed at all. But, Carol notes suddenly, seeing Dr. Storm’s hands, some things have.

“Congrats on your engagement, Dr. Storm.”

Susan flexes the fingers of her ring hand almost reflexively, and runs a thumb across the silver band with a shiny rock on it. “Thank you, Miss Danvers. I admit I am as surprised as you.”

“Did you bag yourself a super scientist?” Carol goads on her way out the door.

“Quite. Now let me conduct my questioning, if you please.” Carol spares a quick grin for Jessica, who blows her a kiss, and steps outside with Dr. Lawson.

“You’ve gotta be relieved,” Lawson says after they move down the hallway, out of earshot of the room and the soldier still stationed outside of it.

“Are my eyes still red from all the crying I did earlier?”

Lawson chuckles. “I’m really happy for you, Ace. You’ve been distraught the last year.”

Carol slumps a little. “I thought I was hiding it well.”

“Oh, you were. After the first couple of weeks without your friend, I knew you were gonna be okay, but now maybe you can get back to being exactly the firecracker I first met.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Lawson leans against a metal wall and sighs. “So what did you want to talk to me about?” 

“Melinda May. You’ve spent more time with her than I have. Does she seem… different?”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know, just sometimes she’s friendly and active, and sometimes it’s like she’s floating through the world. And then--” She thinks about a few weeks ago when May gave Carol the cold shoulder. “--Sometimes she’s just… rude.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Haven’t really gotten a chance.”

Lawson considers. “I have noticed she seems distracted during our briefings, but nothing detrimental. She’s still the best pilot on staff.”

“Better than you?”

“Aside from me, but I have something of a genetic advantage.” Yeah, you’re an alien and you already know how to fly around in space.

She shrugs, though. “Are you asking me to look into it, Ace? I’m a little busy with inventing the next stage of technological progress, human or otherwise.”

“So full of yourself,” Carol says, knowing she can get away with it with Lawson.

Lawson grins. “The question stands, though. Do I need to get involved?”

Carol thinks about it now, but shakes her head. “I’ll handle it. Maybe it’s just a bad breakup or something.”

“I shudder to think what that woman could do to a man who crosses her.”

And that pings another thing. “Hey, Wendy?”

“More concerns?”

Carol nods at another room, an empty convalescence room, and shuts the door behind them both. She whispers, “You’ve told me a good bit about Kree life and culture, but one thing we haven’t really touched on is--” She falls to silence, unable to give voice to it, like she has been unable to every time she wants to broach the subject.

“Spit it out, Ace. The hardest part is just getting over yourself.”

“It’s not that easy, though. It’s… I’m already dealing with this on one planet, but if it’s the same or worse on my other half, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Are you planning a summer vacation to Hala, kid?”

“Hardly,” Carol says. “I just need to know where they stand. You tell me they’re warmongers, that they’re severe. A proud, noble race of warrior heroes, I think is how you sarcastically put it. So what do they believe about sexuality?”

Lawson’s eyes widen. “You worried about your biology mixing with humans?”

It’s getting easier with each person she has to tell, but each one extracts something from her. This time is no different. What if Lawson is a bigot? Will this whole thing come crashing down around Carol, learning about her mother’s people, getting the inside track on the craziest technology this side of the galaxy?

“I need to tell you something, and I’m afraid you’re going to react badly.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re gay, Carol?”

Carol’s lips tighten up into a thin line. There it is. Jessica took the choice away with Dr. Storm--which was kind of shitty of her--but Carol controls the story here.

She nods. “At the very least, I’m not straight.”

Lawson stares at her for a long stretch of seconds, considering. “So you want to know if, on Hala, there are pride parades, or gay bashing, or if it’s completely suppressed among our people?”

“Is that how they treat sexual deviance?”

“No, Carol, it’s not. And I think you should retrain yourself not to think of it as a deviance. If you’re gay, you’re gay. They don’t make a big deal about it, in short.”

Carol sighs with relief. She doesn’t know what she would have done if that answer had been otherwise. “Well, suffice it to say, Jessica’s my actual girlfriend.” The extraction is complete. Why is it easier to tell adults than it is to admit to her friends?

Lawson puts a reassuring hand on Carol’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Kinda figured, Ace.”

“Before today?”

Lawson shrugs. “It’s not often you mope over a friend like you did over her. Plus, I’ve seen the way you check out women on base.”

Oh. Carol’s face reddens, and she runs a hand through the longer side of her hair. “Heh. That obvious?”

“Only for people with eyes.”

Carol sighs again and says, “I guess I’m done telling people on base. Word will get around.”

“If you need a companionable ear, Carol, just say the word. Have you told anyone else yet?”

“Jess’s mom. Director Carter like half an hour ago. Dr. Storm kinda saw it in action. My friend Maria.”

“The flygirl at Hanscom, right?”

“Kinda my best friend while Jess has been gone.”

“Well, you’ll tell the others when the time is right.”

“I guess I will. I didn’t know you were back planetside.” She whispers this last bit.

“Who says I was offworld?”

“Just assumed when you weren’t in contact much.”

“Truth be told, I’m at something of an impasse again. The technology I have access to just isn’t enough. In my research, I tracked an energy signature to what I  _ think _ is a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, real black ops place if it is, and I’m gonna go poke at Howard to see if he can get me in.”

“Wouldn’t you have better luck with the Director?”

Lawson scoffs. “And put myself on her radar more than I already am? No thanks.”

Carol has an idea suddenly, one that may solve a couple of immediate problems. “Well, I should probably get going. I, um, found myself out here without a ride home, and near as I can tell, Jessica doesn’t have one, either. Could I maybe borrow the convertible?”

“Borrow my precious car? You’ve driven it before, but never without me.”

“You know where I live, Lawson. Please?”

“There’s more tech in that beauty than you’re prepared to handle. But…” She considers. “You can’t activate it without me there…” Lawson looks back and forth between Carol’s eyes, and shrugs. “You can have it for tonight. I want it back tomorrow, and if you shoot into the sun somehow, not my fault.”

“Is--is that a possibility?”

Lawson grins and fishes the keys from her pocket, tosses them over. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ace. Take your girlfriend for a nice drive, and do not under any circumstances use it as a makeout place.”

Carol blushes and looks anywhere but at Lawson, but she smiles and nods. “Aye aye, Mar-Vell.”

When Carol gets back to the room Jessica and Dr. Storm are in, they’re just finishing up. Carol says, “Am I interrupting anything?”

“We’re all done, right, Doc?” Jessica asks, and Dr. Storm nods.

Susan says, “I suspect we’ll want to do a followup once your tests come back. Will your mother or father be able to bring you back by?”

Jessica’s personality shifts subtly. Carol catches it, but she doesn’t think Dr. Storm does. “Dad’s out of the country, and things with Mom are… complicated. I can come back, though.”

“To be clear, Miss Drew, you are still a minor and even though this is something of a secret operation, I prefer to do things by the books, when I can. I have already overstepped laws today, and I’m not fond of that. You’ll come back with a parent or guardian, yes?”

Jessica smirks. “Wow, she sounds like Hank.”

“Right?” Carol responds. “They’d probably be here for hours just trying to one-up each other on complex sentences.”

Susan doesn’t even blink or crack a smile or anything, which seems to Carol to be wholly uncalled for. “Yes or no, Miss Drew.”

“You’ll have your ethical standards met, Dr. Storm. Promise.” She crosses her heart like a little kid, and for the briefest of moments, it’s all Carol can see again. With Jess’s shorter, blonde hair, it’s not a difficult jump. Her heart aches for simpler times at the same time it reminds her that they’re growing up, that it’s not the same, and that’s a good thing, right? That this last year was harder than anything Carol and likely Jessica have ever endured, and they didn’t even have each other to get through it.

“Very well, then. Sign these papers that won’t hold up in court, and I’ll arrange an escort to get you off-base.”

“Hey,” Carol says. “I’m right here. I can take her.” Jessica signs the papers and hands them back eagerly, then waits for Dr. Storm to give the okay.

“You don’t have a vehicle, or so I believe I heard.”

Carol jingles the keys in her pocket. “Dr. Lawson let me borrow the convertible.”

“Of course she did.” Dr. Storm finally lets a little bit of a smile crack through, though. “Then yes, go ahead. But she cannot wander the base alone. Once you leave the office, you will drive her to the gate and out, understood?”

“Roger that, Doc,” Carol says, and Jessica wraps her arms around one of Carol’s, hugging her close. “And Doctor?”

“Yes, Miss Danvers?”

“It’s good to see you. We’ve had our differences, but I’m going to always associate getting Jess back with you.”

“I hardly had anything to do with it, but thank you. It’s been… interesting… to see you again.”

“I’ll see you around the base for a while, right?” 

Dr. Storm shakes her head. “As long as I’m not needed elsewhere. Johnny and I need to get back to Reed as soon as he’s ready, though. We’re preparing a space shuttle mission, if you can believe it.”

“Jealous.” Carol absolutely means that, too. “For what?”

“Going to space, I bet,” Jessica interjects, and both Carol and Susan deadpan stare her down. “I’m being helpful, I know.” 

“Classified, I’m afraid. Try not to rekindle any old animosity with my brother while we’re here.”

“All on him, lady. But sure.” Carol waves goodbye as they leave the room and then the building, glad to see the soldier outside Jess’s room doesn’t follow. Carol pinches herself to make sure this whole bizarre day hasn’t been a dream, and when she doesn’t wake up, she reaches up and grabs one of Jess’s hands wrapped around her arm. 

“This is real, isn’t it?”

“We already did this, Care Bear,” Jess whispers. “You know it is.”

“It’s just. It’s been so long.”

“I know.” She lifts her head from Carol’s shoulder and plants a wet kiss on her cheek. “We’ll have time to talk it over soon. Promise.”

They don’t say much until they’re driving away in Lawson’s convertible. “Dang, Carol, you didn’t tell me your space alien teacher was also rich. This thing is nicer than Tony’s Mustang.” She smiles. “Is he still driving it?”

“Tony’s hardly changed at all,” Carol reassures her. The wind blows through their hair, ruffling it as they drive. When they reach the gate, Carol signs them both out. The guard at the gate eyes them like she’s not sure she should let this go unremarked, but waves them through after taking the clipboard back and stepping away.

Once they’re alone in the car, away from base and driving down backroads aimlessly, Jessica tells her the story. And there’s so much! Carol has to pull over when Jessica gets to the part where she died on the table, and they sit in a little clearing off the road, dust settling around them, while Carol listens, dumbfounded and terrified, heartbroken and amazed, at Jessica’s story.

Carol says, “Hydra.” When Jess merely nods, she continues, “Hydra? Are you out of your Goddamn mind?”

“They’ve been good to me!” Jess says defensively, arms crossed in front of her. 

“But they’re  _ Hydra _ , Jess. Nazis from 50 years ago.”

“Not anymore. I did a lot of good on their behalf before coming home.”

“Good in general, or for them?” Carol listened to the stories of how Jessica helped the community and the people with her actions for Hydra, and though it does seem like it was a net positive for the city they were in, it’s Hydra. How could Jess be so naive?

So she asks that. 

“I didn’t really have the luxury of choice, Carol. Make a deal and hope I lived, or wither away slowly while my father did nothing, too afraid he might kill me to even try to cure me.”

Carol tries to let it go. It’s just too weird. Hydra. Carol’s with S.H.I.E.L.D., a government organization that popped up in the aftermath of World War II, specifically to deal with threats like Hydra, to prevent them from rising to power again. And Jessica’s with the definition of evil in modern times.

But they also saved her life. Gave her powers? Gave her a life to live. Is Jess right about them? Surely not. 

“I get it.” She doesn’t. “You did what you had to do. You said you’d come back to me, and you did.”

“I did. I wanted to come back so much earlier, Carol.” In the setting darkness, Carol can’t see her face as more than rough shadow, so she turns the light on above the rear-view mirror, and inspects Jess’s face, as if seeing it for the first time again. Carol knows when Jess is hiding something, and right now, there’s something being held back.

“What aren’t you telling me, Jess?”

“There’s some things that if I tell you, it makes them real. I’m not ready for that yet, Carol. Can we just go back to hugging and kissing and maybe a little groping?” She reaches a playful hand over, but Carol’s not ready for that.

“We need to talk about this,” Carol insists. She grabs Jess’s hand and holds it in a fist in both of hers, kisses it. “I missed you more than anything in this world, Jess. But you were gone for an entire  _ year _ , and now I find out that you’ve been healthy and able for half that time? That you could have called me, if  _ Hydra _ hadn’t said no? That you’re stealing shit from corporations, dangerous shit, for a guy named Taskmaster? Who wears a skull mask? Do you hear any of this? It’s like a bad spy novel, only it’s all really damn real.”

Jess tries to free her hand and reach up to Carol’s face. “Care Bear--” Carol pushes the hand away. “Carol?”

“It’s a lot to process, Jess. What are you going to do about all of this? What if this Taskmaster asks you to set off a bomb, or assassinate someone?”

Jess’s eyes flicker between Carol’s hands and her face, refusing to meet Carol’s eyes for long. 

“Jess.” Jessica looks away, trying to pull her hand back. “Jessica Drew, what the fuck aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything I can right now. Can we please just--take me home?”

“Because I’m sure your mother will have all the same concerns.”

“Not to my mother. I’m not ready to confront that just yet.”

“Jesus, Jess, this is so much. Gone for a year, shoot lightning from your fingers, crawl on walls, steal for--and I’m going to emphasize this properly-- _ literal God damned Nazis _ . Issues with your mother, father still beholden to them.” Jess doesn’t look back, and Carol lets her hand go. They sit in the pale light of the rearview lamp, crickets and other night sounds filtering in from the back woods.

And Carol hates herself for all of this. She told herself she could handle whatever Jess threw at her, but is she really so weak that she can’t even get past the first hurdle?

So she says, “I’m sorry, Jess. You’re in an impossible situation. And I’m not making it easier on you. Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, I can help. We can go to S.H.I.E.L.D.--”

“We can’t. I need to stay off their radar as long as possible. Hydra’s got plans for me on base. And for right now, I need to toe that line. That’s why I showed up there in the first place. To show them I’m just some dumb girl who got better, not a risk, not a threat. Taskmaster already thinks I’m not worth the investment, and you know me.”

“Stubborn to a fault, and will prove anyone wrong just to spite them?”

“I was going to say, I hate being told I’m worthless, but yes.” Finally Jess turns back and looks Carol in the eyes. Jess’s eyes are crystal clear of tears, green as jade and determined. “I can find my way free of this. I know I can. But right now I just need us to be okay.”

“We’re okay, Jess. We’ll never be anything but good, even when we’re not.”

Jess chuckles. “You big doofus.”

“God, I missed you so much, Jess.” Carol pulls Jess in, and even though nothing is all right, they’ve got this moment. The passion of a kiss a year in the wait, the potential of a relationship in stasis breaking free.

Carol has no idea what to do about any of this, but she knows one thing. Carol Danvers and Jessica Drew are together again, and the world should tremble.


	9. Having A S.H.I.E.L.D. Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol takes some finals at school, and then runs into Johnny Storm again. Later, she sees Howard Stark, Susan Storm, Melinda May, and Wendy Lawson on the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and has conversations with each of them. Lawson makes a tantalizing promise.

“Check it out!” Kelly ambushes Carol in the halls before home room, while she gets books out of her locker. Her friend from the ice cream shop has died her hair pitch black, and Carol doesn’t even recognize her at first.

Carol says, “Wow. Most people don’t give up the blonde for something boring.” She personally thinks black hair is to die for, and maybe that’s a bias born from a particularly stubborn girl, but Kelly just looks a little strange with it, though she’s sure she’ll get used to it. Since apparently this girl is going to just continue being her friend.

“Oh, this is closer to my natural hair color anyway,” Kelly says. “Bottle blond is out, natural looks are back in.”

“Well, it looks good.” And after a moment’s consideration, she decides it _ does _ look good. Her pale skin just gives it a severe contrast, but now it vaguely reminds her of Jess, and that causes a smile to form at any time.

“Hey,” Kelly says, growing serious, or as serious as this girl ever gets, “I know it’s a touchy subject, but you know I’m gonna ask.”

Carol sighs. Yeah, she’s gonna ask. Today, though, Carol has to lie. “I haven’t heard from Jess.”

“Damn. You kinda looked like you were floating on a cloud when you got here. I thought, maybe you did.”

Carol needs to keep up the appearance for just a little while longer, that Jess is still gone. She’s revealed herself to Carol, and to S.H.I.E.L.D., but no one else. Not quite yet.

Carol was hoping not to have to even bring it up or tell the lie, but Kelly has made a habit of asking every couple weeks, trying to be a good friend. Carol could stand to be a better friend to this girl, instead of just letting her exist in the same sphere.

“No such luck. You ready for finals?” Carol did study a little with Kelly, and she is of the opinion the girl is going to be a C student, despite Carol’s best attempts to help her. Nothing wrong with that, of course.

“Ready for them to be over. Just one today, and one tomorrow, and then we’re done!”

Carol has more than that, because of advanced classes, but she nods.

They chat idly as they head for home rooms, and Carol smiles at Hank as they go. He spares her a small smile in return. Their friendship has cooled far too much, and Carol feels bad about that. With Jess back, it would be nice to celebrate with him and Tony, Maria and Rhodey. Time enough for that. Carol wants things to be okay with Hank, but it’s hard when he’s so stubbornly sticking to his mutant friends.

They reach Carol’s home room and she waves, as Kelly starts to jog to catch up with her other friends. “Good luck, KK,” Carol calls.

Kelly spins her head just enough to smile and run on. The nickname was Kelly’s idea, and it’s never felt natural, but whatever.

With Jess gone the entire year, another D name took up residence next to Carol, and home room has been a boring affair ever since. Carol uses this time to get last-minute studying in before her chemistry final, and the day disappears under a mountain of testing.

Carol emerges out the other side, eyes strained but pleased. She thinks she could have done better on chemistry, but whatever. Chemistry sucks and she’s looking forward to physics next year. She’s got so much hands-on training with physics due to her internship that she’s pretty sure she’s going to ace it.

But now that school is over, she has to refocus. Internship tonight, and she isn’t entirely sure what’s in store for her, due to Jess being on base the night before. She hopes for something typical, something Mar-Vell-centric.

Outside, a group of underclassmen Carol knows as geeks, but has no real opinion of them either way, are talking to the one and only Johnny Storm, and they’re laughing and joking. This is such an inverse from the year before, when Johnny would terrorize them with his football buddies just for being smaller, with acne and glasses. 

Carol has a couple of minutes before her mother arrives, most likely, so she strolls up to this unlikely gathering and makes it even more unlikely.

“If it isn’t the scourge of the lunchtime dungeons & dragons group,” she says. Johnny smiles as he turns to her. It’s so rare to see him smile without a mean smirk hiding under it that Carol distrusts it immediately.

“Hey, Danvers!” he says. “I was hoping to run into you.” He looks back to the underclassmen, who seem intimidated by her instead of him. “More amends to make, dudes. I’ll talk to the football guys, see if I can get ‘em to lay off you, okay?”

They all agree and bump fists with him, some awkwardly but all enthusiastically, and Carol eyes this whole thing with disbelief. 

Johnny walks with her to the student pickup area, and says, “You’ve probably got some questions.”

“Well, for starters, are you dying?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Healthier than ever, thanks. Uh. Speaking of--”

“I haven’t heard from her,” Carol cuts him off. “Yes, for an entire year.”

“Damn. I figured the two of you were so stubborn, she’d refuse to--well, you know.”

“Uh huh. Sore subject, moving on. You’re making amends now? Which step are you on for AA?” Carol has no remorse whatsoever lying to this guy and giving him shit, despite his shiny new paladin exterior.

“It’s not, like, part of a program or anything, Danvers.” He scratches the side of his blonde crew cut nervously. “I’ve just seen a lot the last year, you know? That thing they say in the movies, about nerds inheriting the world? I’ve seen it firsthand. All these sciency geeks I used to pick on, they’re gonna be my boss someday. Hell, my sister is super smart, and so is the guy we’re working for now.”

Carol chuckles. “You’re an idiot if you didn’t already know your sister was ‘super smart’. You’re talking about Reed Richards, right?”

“Yeah! You heard of him? Obviously you have. Dumb question.”

“Your sister’s got a shiny new rock on her finger. Seems like you’re preparing to have a brother-in-law who’s ‘super smart’.”

Johnny catches her by the arm, squeezing way too hard, and Carol nearly decks him. But he realizes his mistake and lets go, hands out to his sides. “How the hell did you see Sue already? She was going to--” His eyes go wide, searching her face. “Holy shit. Do you know?”

Carol’s eyes narrow, and her fist unballs. “Know what?”

She can see his mind racing in the way his eyes dart about, talking to himself more than her. Working it out. “You must, if you talked to her yesterday. Saw her.” He runs a hand through his spiky crew cut, glancing around. He leans in and whispers, “That she’s not just a high profile scientist.”

Oh, damn. She hasn’t been prepared to deal with this particular secret getting out. Johnny’s not the brightest campfire at the lake, but he can’t fail to put two and two together, can he?

Carol nods, slowly. “I went to where she was yesterday, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“And that was?”

“... I can’t tell you?” Talking around this is confusing! “I, uh, signed NDAs and stuff.”

“So did I!” he hisses, excited. “Oh man, oh man. This is wild! What the friggin’ hell are you doing at a--” He glances around and lowers his voice again. “--At a S.H.I.E.L.D. base?”

Carol laughs out loud. It’s the only response her mind can offer right this second. Johnny stares on nonplussed, and while Carol is laughing, struggling to breathe, Hank McCoy approaches, something like concern on his face.

Johnny holds up a hand. “Hey, private conversation here, chess match.” 

Hank ignores him. “Carol, everything okay?”

“Great, Hank!” she manages between fits of laughter. “Oh, oh, God.” She begins to settle, and her stomach hurts from laughing. She holds her gut, taking calming breaths. She whispers, “Johnny Storm here is going around making amends, and apparently he knows all about the S.H.I.E.L.D. base.”

“Whoa, whoa, private conversation I said! Classified, Danvers!”

Hank gives him a patient smile. “I have also signed agreements of a secretive nature, Johnny. By my count, you’re not even the third person from this school under classifications and gag orders.”

Carol stares him down now. They’re in a public space, but no one’s around. Still. “Who the hell else do you think has it?” she asks.

“Why do either of you?” Johnny cries. She can tell that he’s been thinking he had this great, exclusive secret, and it has all been shattered now. Delicious.

Hank says, “We are not at liberty to reveal that.”

About this time, Carol’s mother pulls up in the family car, and honks to get Carol’s attention. Carol waves and turns back to the two boys. “We can talk secret turkey some other time. Right now I’ve gotta get to my ‘secret internship’.” She winks at Johnny, and his jaw is just slack at this point. 

“So you’ve had this for over a year,” he says finally. “Man, I really don’t know anything, do I?”

“The first step to clearing ignorance is first to uncover it,” Hank says.

“Yeah, what chess match over here said,” Carol reiterates.

Johnny seems to gather himself now. “Sorry, that was the old Johnny. I’m trying to like, apologize for all the shit I put everyone through. So uh… sorry, Hank. Sorry, Carol.”

“And I’m sorry I had to kick your ass so many times,” Carol replies. “This is sweet and all, but I really gotta go. Hank, you good?”

“Yes, I believe Johnny and I can come to terms. Perhaps over a game of chess?” Johnny chuckles a bit. 

“Pass.”

“All right. Hank, a quick word?” Carol asks, grabbing Hank’s sleeve and dragging him away, giving him no real choice in the matter. Once they are sufficiently far from Johnny, Carol checks their surroundings once more to make sure they’re alone. Marie Danvers honks again, tapping her wrist in a “we’re gonna be late” gesture, and Carol holds up a finger this time to wait one hot second.

“Always eavesdropping, Hank.”

“I listen for signs of trouble. You laughing at Johnny Storm seemed like it was going to be just that.”

“Fair enough,” Carol says. “Look, I really do need to get gone. Who else do you think has clearance?”

He has the wherewithal to look a little chagrined as he says, “I’ve heard you talk to Maria. I know she’s not supposed to know, and I know that Jessica at least had been there before.”

“God, Hank, you really do make it hard to be your friend sometimes.”

“I can’t help what my ears hear, Carol.”

“You can sure as shit keep it to yourself. This isn’t over,” Carol says when her mother honks three times insistently. “I’m coming over after my internship. We have some stuff to work out.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Well, I’m not the one spying on my friends. I’ll be there sometime after eight.”

Hank nods glumly, and Carol leaves him to get in the car. 

“Trouble with boys?” Marie asks, and Carol snorts laughter. “What’s funny?”

Carol hasn’t come out to her family yet. Her mother might be fine with it, but her dad? No chance in hell. She has no intention of being called a rugmuncher, or a diesel dyke, or whatever other horrible slurs he’s thrown around in the past. Not until she lives elsewhere and can go home to somewhere that isn’t oppressive after he blows his top.

“Nothing’s funny, Mom.” Everything is, in fact, hilarious right now. “Just finals jitters.”

“Well, do you want to talk about why you have Dr. Lawson’s car but left it at the house this morning?”

Carol laughs. She’s such a dolt. “I honest to God forgot she let me drive it after last night. Can we go get it and I’ll drive it back to my internship?”

“I’d be interested to know what you were doing with her yesterday, that you neglected to mention to me.”

“Mom…”

“I know, I know. Not my business. Yes, we’ll go get the car.” She changes the subject. “How’d the finals go today?” They spend most of the drive going over her studies: a nice, safe subject. 

Towards the end of the drive, as they are mere minutes from home, her mother says, “I think it’s time to have the talk with your brother.”

Damn. “I thought we’d have another year,” Carol says. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing specific, but your father’s been harping about how Steve’s going pro in baseball. How he’s faster than the Roadrunner, hits home runs like nobody’s business, and throws a mean fastball. All your father’s words.”

“So Steve’s showing some strength, from our side of the family.”

“Seems so. If you see Mar-Vell, would you mind bringing it up with her?”

“To what end?” Carol asks. “She’s got no relationship with him, has never even met him.”

“I think it’s important that he’s got the biggest support group he can have. I was thinking, after school lets out in a couple weeks, when we can have him home and he’s got time to come to terms with it.”

Carol shrugs. “Not up to me, but it’s likely gonna be a real interesting damn day.”

“We have to make sure your father won’t be around, of course.”

“Of course.” Papa Danvers still doesn’t know he married an alien. Better that way, Carol is sure. “Hoo boy. Something to look forward to.”

They pull up to the house, and Carol hesitates, wondering where she left the keys. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

Marie sighs. “Honestly, Care, I have no idea. I wish I did. You had a weird couple of days, but it’s like you were already primed for it.”

“Maybe I was. My life was already weird enough before that ever happened.”

“Well, we’ll figure out a day once school lets out.”

“Sounds good, Mom. I’ll see you after?”

“One more thing,” Marie says, putting her hand on Carol’s arm. Carol resists the urge to pull her arm free. Their relationship has improved over the last year, due to Carol knowing about the whole alien thing, but not by much.

“What else?”

“Well, I know you’ve never really cared about this kind of stuff--”

“No, Mom.” Don’t you dare bring it up, Carol thinks.

“I wish you’d just consider the prom, sweetie.”

“It’s not even my senior year, why would I go?”

“Aren’t all your friends going?”

Carol crosses her arms in front of her chest, sulking. Of course they are. She’s been ignoring it all this time.

“What about Anthony? I bet he’d like to take you. Or that Henry?”

“Ughhhh, Jesus, Mom, why do you even care about this stupid Earth tradition? It’s vulgar and misogynistic.”

“I just don’t want you to miss out on something because you’re a Ra Ra Rebel and only half human.”

Carol shrugs, opening the door. “Not going. And definitely not with Tony Stark.”

“We’ll talk about it later, dear.”

Carol scoffs as she closes the door harder than she means to. 

Her mother parks the car, while Carol goes inside to get the keys to Lawson’s convertible. Why does it feel like she just lost an argument?

The drive is smooth in this car, and she really loves the way the wind cuts in once she’s on the highway. It helps to distract her from everything she’s trying to ignore. Once inside the base, Carol tries to drive all the minutiae of the outside world away. She just wants to go find Dr. Lawson and have a completely normal day of playing with experimental jets and learning about her Kree heritage. But she receives word from the soldier manning the gate, before she can drive away, that she’s been requested at the admin building before she goes about her normal internship.

Sighing heavily, she makes her way to the admin building, expecting another fun chat with Director Carter, but once she badges in and finds her way to the offices, she instead sees Howard Stark and Dr. Storm having a heated argument just outside Director Carter’s office. It’s too late to stay hidden and eavesdrop, and too late to casually back up and let them finish their argument, so she stands there awkwardly about ten feet away while they argue.

Dr. Storm says, “And I’m telling you for the last time, gene editing is dangerous and the preliminary results are not encouraging.”

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion just so you could shit all over this, Sue.”

Dr. Storms catches Carol out of her peripheral vision and clears her throat. “I’m not telling you not to do this, but I’m cautioning against any radical procedures until it can be tested more thoroughly.”

Howard’s head lowers and his voice becomes muted. “There isn’t much time to get it right, and I think you know that.”

Director Carter isn’t even in her office, and the other directors of this facility’s departments are casually ignoring the debate going on in their midst. 

Dr. Storm nods. “I know, Howard. I ran the original tests, if you recall.”

“Well, I’ve got to move forward. We can talk about this later. Hey, kiddo!” Howard declares as he pivots in conversation and tone to greet Carol. “Fancy seeing you here. Figured you’d be out with the quinjet.”

“I was hoping to be, too. If you didn’t request me here, then…” Carol deadpan stares at Dr. Storm. “I guess I’m with you again?”

Dr. Storm smiles. “As I told you yesterday, I’m here to check up on my patients. You were under my care while I was here. I’d like to put you through some physical fitness paces, see how you’re doing.”

Ugh. Well, mindless running and exercise is better than classwork. “Sounds great.”

Howard claps her on the leather jacketed shoulder. “You should come visit when she’s done with you. I’ll make sure you’ve got clearance to my lab.”

“Really? You’ve never let me in there before.”

“Nonsense.” His eyes narrow. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’ll be. Yeah, come on by. A friendly face’ll do me good.”

He departs, still looking anxious and exhausted. Whatever he’s working on has got him fully committed.

“So you’re gonna run me ragged, aren’t you, Doc?” Carol asks as she watches Howard go.

“You can handle anything I throw at you, I’m sure.” She doesn’t see Susan’s face but Carol is certain the woman is hiding a smirk, and failing.

And she does put Carol through her paces. An hour of exhaustive cardio on a stationary bike, weight lifting, muscle extensions, reflex testing, and in between each set answering questions about her diet, her exercise regimens, any injuries she’s received over the last year. It’s all rather invasive, but Carol’s too distracted to worry about it.

Then Dr. Storm broaches another subject. “What about sexual health, Miss Danvers?”

Carol trips on the treadmill she’s on now, missing a step and nearly face-planting before she catches herself. “My what now?”

“Don’t play stupid, it’s beneath you.”

“Why would I tell you anything about my sex life, Doc? None of your business.”

“It’s a standard question for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and pilots, no less.”

Carol holds in the response she really wants to give. “Are you asking me because I’m with Jess, or because it’s really standard?”

“Your sexuality is of no concern to me. It’s not my cup of tea, but to each their own.” Dr. Storm runs a finger along her engagement ring, and smiles. “You’re not technically a consenting adult yet, but neither is your girlfriend. I merely wish to know if you’re practicing safe sex, if you are practicing at all.”

Carol hops off the treadmill, covering her deep, furious blush under a towel as she wipes her face and gets a drink. “We’re safe,” she mutters.

“Excellent. That’s all that really matters, Miss Danvers. That you are safe, happy, and healthy while you are employed or otherwise engaged with governmental bodies.”

Carol changes the subject, happily. “Great. Now do you wanna tell me why you’re taking all these measurements? I get weekly physical fitness tests, all of which are being documented and I’m sure you’ve got clearance.”

Dr. Storm smiles. “Quite. I forget sometimes that you aren’t just any average teenager.” She sighs and fishes a pamphlet out of her lab coat pocket, and hands it over.

The pamphlet is dry reading, but it outlines physical and mental fitness requirements for young astronauts to enter space. “What is this?” she asks.

“The requirements my brother is struggling against in his efforts to join the space shuttle mission I told you about.”

“No. Way.” Carol can’t believe what she’s hearing. Johnny Storm, going to fucking _ space _ before Carol gets to pilot an aircraft? What universe would allow that to happen?

“He’s struggling, as I said. Truthfully, I don’t think he should be trying. But the mission really only requires two people, myself and Dr. Richards. The other seats are precautionary, filled with muscle and protection. Johnny thinks he can be that.”

Carol laughs. It’s all she can do. It’s all she feels like she can do most of the time now.

“Unbelievable. If that meathead gets to go to outer god damn space before I do, I will know this is an unjust universe.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Miss Danvers. If it makes you feel any better, you more than meet the physical requirements. I’d have half a mind to invite you if you were of age.”

“Johnny’s in my grade, though.”

“I’m going to let you take that thought to its logical conclusion,” Susan says, and Carol gets it. He’s been held back at some point, so he’s an adult already, or will be by the time the mission actually begins.

“Just unbelievable,” Carol says again, shrugging.

“At any rate, your physical evaluation is superb, as expected. You may return to your normal duties, or see to Howard Stark, if that suits you.”

“Gee, thanks, Doc.” She does feel good about that, though. Good enough to be an astronaut. She’s been focused on becoming a pilot, but what’s an astronaut but a specialized pilot? She could do that. Might someday get the chance, with Dr. Lawson in the mix.

Carol cleans up and heads out to Stark’s lab. She’s nervous but excited to get to see inside his lab space. It’s like getting to see the heart of the world or something.

His lab is an isolated building away from most other facilities, one she has been curious about for well over a year now, and she gets to the door with a big smile on her face. The guard at the door holds a hand up for her to halt, and she does so. She doesn’t recognize this particular soldier.

“Mr. Stark is not receiving visitors at this time,” he says.

Oh. “He asked me to come by, though. Said he’d make sure I had clearance? Carol Danvers, intern?”

“I know who you are, Danvers. He didn’t say anything about you on his way in.”

“I mean, can you call him and ask?” This is ridiculous.

“He asked not to be disturbed.”

“Come on, I’m sure he just forgot. Busy man and all that.”

The soldier shakes his head and settles his hand on a stun gun attached to his belt. It’s not a direct threat, but Carol gets it.

“Cool it, buddy. I don’t know why you’re so deadset on acting like I’d be trying to sneak into this place without his permission.”

He’s unfazed. “Isn’t that how you got on base in the first place?”

“Yeah, but--”

“No buts. You don’t have clearance.”

Carol fumes. “This is bullshit.”

“Sure stinks like it, huh?” This guy is an asshole, but Carol knows better than to push it. Howard just forgot. It’s fine. She’ll catch up with him some other time. Better that than trying to get this guy in trouble, or worse, getting a stun gun to the chest for attempted infiltration.

She storms off, driving angrily back to the quinjet hangar, far too fast in Lawson’s car, but manages to take some calming breaths by the time she arrives. She finds Lawson and Airman May chatting over coffee near the quinjet.

Lawson smiles brightly when Carol enters her line of sight and says, “Well, if it isn’t the secret intern! Where’s my car, Carol?”

Carol tosses the keys to Lawson and says, “The one and only. I’ve had a bit of a day, but your car is fine.” Carol drags a crate over and drops onto it, sighing. 

“Well, I imagine we’re not about to make it any better, huh, Goose?” Lawson asks, and May shrugs.

“Probably not.”

“What? Are you going into space now, too?”

Lawson and May exchange brief glances and then chuckle. “Not quite yet, ace,” Lawson says. “The quinjet is getting its final test runs before it enters actual service. Goose here is flying.”

Carol recovers from the immediate disappointment that the quinjet is going away. “That’s awesome, May!”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“I mean, unless you’re gonna sneak me on board for the final test flights, I knew I wasn’t getting on this thing in the air any time soon.” She has had secret hopes that May would repeat her ride-along gesture from the first few weeks Carol was on base, but no such luck.

May smirks, though. “I’d rather not get booted from the program altogether, Cheeseburger.”

“Fair enough. But seriously, congrats, May.”

“Thank you, Danvers.”

“What are you going to do once the jet enters service, Dr. Lawson?” Carol asks, realizing that this must be the disappointed part.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lawson takes a sip of coffee, thinking. “I’ll run out of excuses real quick if I’m not working on an experimental jet on base.”

“What about the other one?” Carol asks.

Lawson shakes her head, eyes warning Carol not to reveal too much around Melinda May. “I can’t really bring that one here. Project Pegasus is elsewhere and it’s gonna stay there for now.”

“Did you catch up with Stark?” Carol asks. “Ask him about the energy thing?”

She nods. “The man is laser-focused on whatever his project is right now. It took some doing to get him to talk about it, but I’m heading there to get a look at this thing and see if it’ll serve my purposes.”

“Meantime, I’m on regular missions again,” May says, standing and stretching. “Well, regular aside from flying the quinjet.” She grins and Carol can’t help but smile back. The woman is so excited, and Carol really is happy for her, too. “I’ve got to run, but you two stay out of trouble, yeah?”

Lawson salutes the woman, and as she’s walking away, Lawson calls out, “Oh wait, don’t forget the--well, the thing. You know.”

May catches herself midstride and grabs up a duffel bag set aside. “This thing isn’t like a melty laser or something, is it?”

“Mostly harmless,” Lawson assures her. “It’ll serve your purpose well enough.”

“Thanks, Doc. See you soon.” May leaves, and Carol glances at Lawson.

“I don’t suppose I get to know what that was about?”

Lawson doesn’t even answer her, though. “So what are we going to do with you, ace?”

“I didn’t think it was going to be me who had to worry about being around here. I’m practically a fixture at the base now,” Carol says, grinning. 

“Now you know that’s not always going to be the case. When do you turn eighteen?”

“Little less than a year.”

“Hmm. I think I know how to keep myself around for a bit longer. You may not like it, though, Danvers.”

“Are you going to kick my ass like Goose already does?”

Lawson chuckles. “Nothing like that. Let’s just say that you’re gonna have to get real acquainted with the G machine.”

“Ugh,” Carol says, then stops herself. “Why?”

“What possible reasons could one have for conditioning to G forces, my wily intern?”

“Are you gonna let me fly?”

“No let about it. You’ll have earned it by the time I’m done with you. Consider it ROTC on steroids.”

That sounds awful, but if it means Carol can get into a jet again, she’s all for it. “Great. When do we start?”

“After I finish this coffee and you tell me all the things you did or didn’t do to my precious baby outside.” Carol groans. People and their damn cars. 

She’ll bring up her brother later. There’s plenty of time for that. Right now, Carol’s only interested in hearing more about fast-tracking her into a pilot seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A promise of flying? Carol's dreams are coming together, one piece at a time.
> 
> Next chapter, Carol checks in with Hank McCoy, and Jessica goes on a mission!


	10. Of Mutants And Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol has a heart to heart with Hank, and Jessica goes on an infiltration mission.

Carol, once more without her mentor’s wheels, borrows the family car after her father drives her home. He has become increasingly detached to her goings-on, and despite occasional grumpiness about being out late, lets her do her own thing. Which is perhaps a result of her mother taking a stronger hand in Carol’s life, or because his other child is shaping up to be something he wants out of a kid. A pro ball player. 

Carol tries to ignore it as she hops into the driver’s seat and watches him go inside to crack a beer and bad jokes at the TV. Carol knows where Hank lives, but she’s never actually been there. It takes several minutes by car to get across town to where the lower-cost housing butts up against the fancier places. On the other side of that, the trailer park where Hank’s family lives.

She checks the time and sees that it’s about 8:30, and she told him she would be by sometime after 8:00. When she pulls into the gravel driveway next to the trailer, her lights shine on the shaggy-haired boy, sitting awkwardly on the little wooden porch that leads up to the screen door. He waves sheepishly, and walks out to meet her.

Carol hasn’t really been to any trailer parks, and she’s ashamed to admit that she has a certain picture of them in her mind that isn’t favorable. People arguing through thin walls, bottles crashing, smell of meth smoke and cat piss. Gangs of lawless children stripping anything not nailed down roaming from shadow to shadow.

This is not what this trailer park has going on. Not at all. It’s quiet, and there’s a bit of a nice woody smell in the air, like someone’s out grilling late. Carol does hear some music from a ways off, and laughter, but it sounds like people just having a good time, letting loose and unwinding after a hard day.

“Hey, Hank,” Carol says. She closes the door to the car and leans against the warm fender as it ticks and cools.

“Good evening, Carol.” He stands a few feet away, arms crossed in front of him in a gesture that appears to be against the chill of the night, but Carol reads as defensive.

“We’ve got some shit to hash out, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do, yes.”

“You wanna start, or should I?”

“I hardly know where to begin, Carol.”

She sighs and pushes off the car with her butt, paces a bit, and looks at him. “You know I’ve broken protocol and technically committed treason.”

“I do. You’ve revealed to Maria Rambeau that you are an intern for S.H.I.E.L.D., and your cover story is just that: a fabrication.”

“What else?”

“That’s everything I know for certain.”

Carol searches his eyes in the light of her car’s headlights, and doesn’t see evasion or lie. She sighs with relief. He doesn’t know about Jessica being back.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” Carol asks.

“I thought perhaps there was no harm in it, and after all, the circumstances of my own NDA and clearance are provisional and highly secretive, even at the base.”

That much is true. He may have “clearance”, but that’s because Lawson has him listed as a private contractor, one who has never been on base, and thus all their secrets are kept. 

“You know it probably wasn’t the smartest move to tell Johnny,” Carol says. “He’s been in town a couple days and already blurted out his sister’s secret to me.”

Hank sighs, running a hand through his shaggy hair and removing his glasses to clean them. “I had that discussion with him once you left. I believe he understands the urgency of leaving me out of any conversations.”

“Good. Let’s hope that sticks. Now that the uncomfortable intern stuff is out of the way, how crazy is it that he’s like… nice, now?”

Hank chuckles. “I seem to recall being nicknamed ‘chess match’ this afternoon, as a counterpoint.”

“He apologized for that, though. It’s just so weird. Also, uh, sorry for saying it about you, too.”

“You weren’t using it in a mean way. After all, you’re the only person in school who can even give me a challenge at chess now.”

They sit in silence a minute. Carol has missed this. Maria’s her flygirl; Jess is her everything; Tony’s her incorrigible bastard; Rhodey’s one to challenge her. Even Kelly and Angelica have their place in Carol’s life, though she is hard-pressed to figure out exactly what. But her intellectual rival has been Hank, and without him actively in her life this last year, she’s felt the loss.

“How’s the ice cream shop?” Carol asks. “You still getting stiffed on tips?”

He shakes his head. “Angel offered me some helpful advice, if you can believe it.”

“I can’t, actually. She doesn’t even work there.”

“She stops in often, though.” Carol nods. She and John Proudstar make a habit of swinging by near closing, and Emma is with them once a week or so. 

“And what friendly help could the bombastic Firestar have possibly given you?”

He smiles and opens his mouth to speak, but the door to his trailer slams open suddenly, and an older woman with a bit of a slur, whom Carol has spoken with over the phone, calls out. “Henry, it’s getting late. If your girlfriend wants to come in, she can stay an hour, but I’m not about to help raise a baby now that mine can fend for themselves.”

“It’s okay, Mother. Carol’s a friend from work,” Hank calls.

“Well, whatever. Stop flirting and kiss her, or let her get on with her day.”

The door crashes shut, and there’s silence for a moment. Hank blushes from embarrassment, and Carol stifles laughter. “Nice woman.”

“She’s a lot to handle, but at least she didn’t offer us condoms.”

“That feels like it’s happened before.”

Hank nods sheepishly. “She thinks I have too many female friends.”

“I can’t imagine she said it like that,” Carol says.

“I believe her words were ‘You’re gonna get one of ‘em pregnant, and the rest are gonna bail on ya’.” Hank’s impression of his mother is eerily good, and she now understands that he’s very controlling of his speech patterns. It’s not just his natural way of speaking; it’s affected as a defense mechanism. Carol can understand that.

“Okay, well, have we ever really talked about this?” Carol asks. “Like, I’ve never seen you really dating. Are you even trying?”

“I’m not. My focus until the ice cream shop and my kind has been to simply get out of here, make a life for myself through academia, if I can. Now, I find myself split. Mutants need help. Not all of them pass for humans.”

“I’ve met Clarice.”

“She can pass depending on the circumstance.”

“Still.”

“Still,” he agrees.

“So what are you planning to do? Go off and join Emma’s mutant militia, be a thief or a murderer?”

“It’s not a militia.”

“Well, whatever you think it is, she has invaded my mind, made me think I was going crazy.”

“And I feel for you, Carol. I do. What she did is not acceptable, and I have her assurances that she isn’t doing it to anyone else.”

“Tell you what you can do with anything she says,” Carol mutters.

“Frankly, what I do with Emma Frost and her subordinates is no longer your concern, except as regards Ice Dream, Inc. for as long as you work there.”

“I don’t get why you have to be like this.” Carol scoffs when he doesn’t immediately say anything. “I mean, seriously. You were out there busting heads, protecting the streets, and now you’re working at an ice cream shop, stockpiling tips.”

“All my money goes to my college fund.”

“Whatever. You were my kickass compadre, my Blue Beast of the Street, and now you’re just some guy who’s kind of friends with me, sometimes.”

“I don’t really know what else to tell you, Carol.”

“I do, Hank,” she shoots back at him. “You can show me that what Emma and her Hellions are doing is not going to get you or anyone else hurt.”

“Did Angel tell you that name?”

“Doesn’t matter. You know, it’s weird. You’ve never tried to kill me before, but somehow I’m better friends with Firestar than you.”

“Your penchant for aggression is appealing to Angel, I’m sure. Do you intend to go out with her again on her not-so-secret vigilante nights?”

Damn. “You guys know about that, huh?”

“I merely find it curious that you distrust Emma Frost so much, yet you continue to work for her, and continue to be friends with a woman who is deeply loyal to Emma. And as you admitted, tried to kill you.”

Carol bristles. “You know why I’m working for her. It’s because you’re an asshole who decided to throw your lot in with her.”

He winces, but doesn’t rise to the bait. “And your friendship with Angelica?”

“I like bad bitches who buck the status quo.” Carol shrugs. “Look, we can go ‘round and ‘round on this, like we always do, but you’re in really deep with dangerous people. Can you promise me, really, truly promise me, that what you’re doing is not going to get people hurt, or killed?

“I can tell you only that mutants have a hard road ahead, and this is going to help ease that road, for some of us.”

“Well, you’ve got your secrets, and I’ve got mine,” Carol says. And she gives him a genuine smile. “I have a surprise for you, too. Not sure when I can reveal it, but soon.”

“I look forward to happy surprises.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m going home, Hank. You stay outta trouble, okay?”

He nods, and offers his hand to her, which she shakes. “Likewise, my friend.”

Carol gets back in the car and drives away, but instead of going straight home, she drives into Boston, to Jessica’s flat. Even though she isn’t sure Jess will be there, given her own secret double life. She hopes Jess is around because she’s got a plan.

Jessica is there, but doesn’t invite her in. Instead she comes down to the street and throws an arm around Carol. She’s wearing dark leathers and a hood, with the merest hint of her blonde halo of hair sticking out of it. 

“Maybe you should invest in a beeper,” Jess says, smacking Carol’s cheek with a quick kiss. “We can be all super trendy.”

“When are you gonna let me up into your place?” Carol asks, ignoring the beeper comment.

“As soon as it’s not being monitored by you know who every hour of the day.”

“Ah.” They lean against the building’s brick wall, shoulder to shoulder, and Carol says, “Are you free tomorrow night?”

Jess shrugs. “I might be. Depends on tonight.”

“What’s going on tonight?”

“Probably better if you don’t know.”

“Dangerous?” Carol asks.

“Not for me.”

“God I love it when you’re all confident.” Jess grins. “But seriously, be safe, yeah?”

“Of course. What’s going on tomorrow?”

Carol fills Jess in on the bare framework of a plan she’s formed, and Jess nods. “Might be fun. Do I get to stay hidden?”

“You’re doing a bad job if you don’t.”

And Carol remembers that Hank and John Proudstar have increased senses, just like Jess now. “It requires the highest discretion. Let’s just say we’re following people who can hear a pin drop at the race track.”

Jess’s eyes narrow at her. “Are you asking me because I’ve got zappy stuff, or sneaky stuff?”

“Sneaky, for sure. This is a stealth mission.”

“I’m good at those.”

Jess kicks off the wall, and tightens the hood around her face slightly. “I’ve gotta get moving. There’s a timeline tonight.”

“Okay, Drawed. C’mere.” Carol reaches for Jess, and Jess takes Carol’s hand, lets herself be drawn in, wraps her arms around Carol’s waist, so that their bodies are pressed together. 

“When did you get so much taller than me?” Jess whispers.

“Is that really what you want to do with your lips right now?”

“Good point.” She leans into Carol, and for a little while Carol forgets all the other shit in the world that’s troubling her. When she lets Jess go, they’re both breathless and flushed. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Care Bear.”

“Uh, yeah. Same.” Jess disappears down a side street, and when Carol rushes over to watch her go, she’s already vanishing over a rooftop. Sneaky ninja.

Jess meets up with the operative known as Bullseye on the rooftop of a squat bank building. Her mission from Taskmaster tonight is something a little less risky than they’ve been having her do lately.

“You’re late,” Bullseye says, the grin on his face suggesting he finds it hilarious. 

“I’m here. Do you have the package or not?”

Bullseye tosses her a small backpack, which she deftly catches and begins to open it. “Boss said no eyes.”

“I don’t carry if I don’t know what it is,” Jess says. 

Bullseye shrugs. “No one’s grading your performance up here. You don’t get to retake these tests. Either the mission gets done or you don’t wake up tomorrow.”

Jess’s fingers halt on the zipper. “So you’re that kind of operative?” 

“I merely pull the trigger when they say jump, which is maybe a mixed metaphor, but I’m gonna imagine you get it all the same.”

“I do.” She hates this guy, but at the same time, she deeply fears him. Even with her abilities, she can’t outrun a bullet. She can’t dodge what she can’t see. And if Taskmaster trusts this guy to do a job, Jess feels sure it’s going to get done. She tosses the bag around her back, cinches it tight, and glances around. “Okay, so where am I putting this? Not really any nearby buildings.”

“That’s why I’m here, dollface.” Ugh. She really hates this guy.

“Well? If I’m late, are we gonna stand around sneering at each other for an hour, or can I get on with it?”

He smirks, and lifts a rifle from behind the air conditioning unit he’s leaning on. “Watch closely.”

Oh God, she hopes he isn’t about to kill someone. She doesn’t know if she can handle that.

But she knows better than to say any of that, so she affects boredom. “I don’t need to watch you get your jollies by shooting someone.”

“Not tonight, Arachne. This way.” He leads her to the other side of the roof, where there’s another research and development lab a couple buildings over. One she hasn’t hit yet for Hydra.

“You need to infiltrate that building, and leave the contents of the package in a specific place. Here’s the schematics.” He hands over blueprints of the building, and points her to a red circle around a clean room deep in the facility, in the basement it looks like.

“I’m not blowing up this building, am I?”

“If we were just gonna bomb the place, I wouldn’t need you to do your spider thing. I could just fire a rocket at the place. Don’t be stupid, spider-girl. You’re just placing some tech inside that will compromise the research, which is of paramount importance to our boss.”

“Well, I guess that’s okay,” Jess mutters. Once she’s inside the building, though, she intends to check the contents of the bag, regardless of what this psycho douchebag tells her. “Security I need to know about?”

“Standard fare, except all the windows are rigged all the way up. No way to bypass from outside, near as we can tell.”

“Kinda limits me.”

“Again, that’s why I’m here.” He grins and pats his rifle, then lazily points it at the building and fires. Jess thinks the report is going to be deafening this close, but it makes the tiniest hollow ejection sound, and a rope trails out along the projectile’s path. It sinks into the building high up on the wall, between windows, and Bullseye ties off the rope on this end.

“Off you go. I just nailed one of the only safe places to breach the wall with anything. You go in through the roof and get back out the same way.”

Jess nods. Seems simple enough. “In, drop off, out. No problem.”

“Go on, then. Climb the spiderweb. I’ll be here until you finish the mission or set off an alarm.”

“So much confidence in me, Bullseye.”

“All I’ve seen you do so far is nearly get caught and then reveal yourself before Taskmaster said you could. My confidence in you is exactly where it should be, honey bunch.”

She ignores his sexist comments and climbs the rope. It bows a little bit, straining from even her light weight, but Jess climbs quickly and reaches the side of the research building without being seen by anyone in the windows. She clings to the side of the building, and climbs up to the roof. Here there are two young lab technicians in white lab coats smoking cigarettes and complaining about their boss. Jess listens in from the side of the building, and uses her heightened senses to track their movements. If they’re on the roof, there’s easy access. And she can possibly just go in that way if they don’t realize she’s there.

So she crawls around the building until their voices are faint, and peeks over. Hidden by rooftop machinery, Jess sneaks over to the little rooftop building containing the stairwell, and climbs on top of it, so that she’s flat against the tin roof, hidden from the technicians outside the door, but poised to act.

They sound innocent enough. One, a female Jess figures out is the senior of the two, telling the male that he’s trying too hard, and he needs to just do good work and the boss will recognize it. He’s not listening, and just complaining that no one will give him a chance. Jess gets bored listening to the minutiae of their lives, until finally the woman stamps her foot on her cigarette, and says it’s time to get back in.

Jess waits until they filter in, and as the door swings shut, she juts her hand out to stop it. The door failing to slam might be noticed, but she’s got to take the risk if she wants inside.

The technicians’ voices fade as they argue about some esoteric subject that she doesn’t understand. She slips down off the little shack and slides into the building, then looks for a way to jam the door open when she notes there’s a security panel on the inside. Fortunately, some lazy technician has supplied a little wooden wedge, and she props the door open slightly.

Sneaking around once inside the building is like most buildings: the security exists to keep people out and not necessarily to watch those within. She spots some cameras as she creeps about, but they’re all aimed down and she easily avoids them with a little ceiling crawling action. Once, a late night janitor comes through buffing the floors of the hallway, but he’s got headphones on and doesn’t even look up as Jess hides on the ceiling. On his belt, she spots a keycard that would be used to swipe his way into various rooms in the building, and crawls along the ceiling behind him, waiting for the right moment.

The camera is facing the other direction in this part of the hallway, and he pauses for a moment before reeling back like he’s going to sneeze. Jess takes this opportunity to extend her body down behind the man, feet still clinging to the ceiling, and she unclips the keycard as he sneezes violently. She curls back up and scuttles away like a spider, and he moves on none the wiser. Well, eventually he’ll figure out he lost it somewhere, but she’s got time.

She slips into the internal building’s stairwell without issue, and makes it all the way to the basement, where there’s another security panel. The keycard swipes through and generates a beep. The door demagnetizes, allowing Jess to slip in unseen.

Here there are workers, late night technicians keeping experiments running overnight while the lead researchers are home with their families. In this basement laboratory, the security controls are tighter still, and she has to time her maneuvers between camera pans much more accurately to avoid their electric gaze. But she reaches a circular room at the center of the building, and this is the place. Whatever’s going on inside, Hydra wants it stopped, and the contents of her package will do that.

Jess opens the pack while clinging to the ceiling. She was told not to, but she definitely doesn’t want to be delivering a bomb, regardless of what Bullseye said. There’s a device inside, lights flashing red and green, circular in nature, but doesn’t appear to be any bomb technology she’s been made familiar with. It looks like some kind of circuit disruptor if she has to guess, and perhaps that will do what they want.

But where to put it? Bullseye said inside the circle on the blueprint, but the circle is just an area, not indicating the actual circular room. So long as it’s within range of the room, it should work.

So she finds a supply closet, and stashes the bag in its entirety inside, behind the industrial package of toilet paper that is itself behind another package of toilet paper, and unlikely to be disturbed.

She sneaks out much the same way she came in. There is a close moment where a team of security guards comes sweeping around a corner, causing Jessica to scramble out of view into a nearby hallway, still on the ceiling. There’s nowhere to go here and she braces for a fight, if any of the three security guards even so much as glance into the hallway.

But they’re discussing a baseball game, and are distracted as they pass the hallway. Jess holds her breath, waiting for one of them to glance anyway, just out of paranoid habit, but the one who does has his security guard ball cap so low on his forehead that she can’t see his eyes. And if she can’t see his eyes, he can’t see her. Hopefully.

They pass on by, and Jess breathes easier. She slips all the way out to the roof access stairwell, and before she eases the door shut, she hears the janitor talking to someone else. 

“I’m telling you, I dropped it somewhere on this level. If I don’t find it, I’m canned.”

A woman responds, “We just need to backtrack until we find it--”

“You don’t think I’ve tried that? I’ve been all over this floor three times.”

“Calm down, calm down. Did you try--” Their conversation is hushed and urgent, and Jessica feels bad for stealing the keycard. She eases the stairwell door shut, wipes the keycard clean, and wedges it under the door so that it sticks out the other side. They’re sure to see it when they come this way, and all will be okay.

She reaches the top of the stairwell, is happy to see the door still wedged open, and puts the wedge back where she found it. She’s about to ease the door farther open and make her escape when the bottom stairwell door pops open, creating a pressure differential in the stairwell and sucking the door next to Jessica towards closing.

She rams a foot into the gap and gasps, holding the cry in as the door slams against her ankle. 

“Ha. Told you we’d find it,” the woman’s voice says. Fortunately the stairs wrap around twice, providing Jessica some cover, and she eases the door open again. A breeze flows through the gap thanks to the open door down below, and Jess curses under her breath.

“”You feel that? Did one of those bratty techs leave the roof open again?” the janitor asks.

Footsteps echo upwards, and Jess panics. She can run, probably get down the building to the grapple and slide back to Bullseye before anyone sees, but they’ll likely know  _ something _ happened.

No. She’s got one chance at this. Both sets of footsteps tap and echo, and through her enhanced hearing she clocks the wind and the slight squeak of rusted hinges. Times it just right and clicks the door into place as the door slams shut at the bottom of the stairwell. The sound should cover her. But she doesn’t have time to wait and figure it out. She sprints for the edge of the roof, doing a low dive over the lip while letting her hand grasp the wall, and drops into a controlled fall back down to the grapple stuck to the exterior wall.

Just as she’s about to reach it, a small blue light flashes on the grapple, and the whole thing ejects from the wall, taking her easy escape with it. She follows its descent, and at the end of the rope two buildings away, Bullseye reels it in, grinning.

Asshole.

She gauges the distance between buildings, vertically and horizontally, and the calculus doesn’t quite add up. She’ll hurt herself if she leaps for it and lands badly on the first building, or die if she falls short and freefalls down the side of a building, scraping and trying to cling to it.

The door on the roof opens back up, and she can’t waste any more time. If they know someone infiltrated the place, they’ll tear it apart and find the device. Mission failure, and Jess can’t have that.

So she takes a deep breath, angles her body, and kicks off with every bit of strength she has. She soars off the building, arms spread, feeling light as a feather. Either she’s about to do something incredible, or she’s going to be a strange story for the morning news.

The wind from her leap pushes her hood back, freeing her hair and exposing her to anyone paying attention, but she doesn’t care in the moment. Can’t care. For the briefest of instants, as her horizontal leap takes her far beyond what a normal human should be able to jump, she feels that thrill of weightlessness, that momentary sensation of something damn near flight. And though she’s always hated the idea of it in the past, this is exhilarating. She suppresses the urge to yell triumphantly, especially because she doesn’t want to get caught, but also because she isn’t yet sure she’s going to live through this insanity.

Gravity and wind resistance work against her, and her vertical distance begins to outstrip her horizontal. She knows what happens even if she clears the jump but is coming down too straight, too hard. Broken bones, punctured lungs, cracked skull. Though she can heal faster these days, those aren’t wounds one can simply walk away from.

She lands on the roof between the lab and the bank where Bullseye is waiting. Before the impact can do more damage, she immediately tucks into a roll, wincing at her joints screaming in pain. But nothing breaks, and she rolls end over end for several meters before she can cling to the surface of the roof and stop her momentum. She’s breathing heavily, gasping and exultant.

Then she stands and faces Bullseye, who Hydra salutes her with a grin from the other rooftop and drops out of view.

“Asshole,” she mutters.

But she made it away from the building safely and secretly. Her mission is successful, and she comes away with some needs. She needs a proper outfit if she’s going to be infiltrating high security complexes, and maybe some modifications to that outfit to test out a theory she suddenly has.

With a little assistance, what if this spider could fly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is mutant mayhem!


	11. Three Weeks Since My Last Power Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Jessica follow Hank on a fact-finding mission, trying to discover more about Emma Frost's plans. A rooftop chase commences, secrets come out, and the consequences of working for Hydra rear their head.

Carol gets permission to leave work early, to continue studying. Fortunately John Proudstar was already in the building, anticipating a busier night than they’re really getting, so Hank okays it. She hopes Hank bought it, but nothing to do for it except continue on. Carol meets Jessica outside Jess’s apartment. Carol has the family car again, and her excuse for staying out late after work was to go study with Hank. She frowns at how easy it has become to simply lie about her whereabouts while being somewhat truthful. She’s going to study, only Hank is the subject. Close enough.

Of course, Carol’s father asked if Hank was a fag, since he’d met the guy over the last year and didn’t understand why a guy would hang around a girl unless he was trying to get laid. Carol did her best to get out of there without screaming or punching her father out. It was a near thing.

Jessica hops in the passenger seat, wearing a familiar red hoodie, and leans over to hug Carol. It feels so good to just casually be able to hug and kiss this girl again. She holds the hug for longer than she should, but Jess lets her. When Jess lets go, Carol reaches a hand up to the back of Jess’s neck and holds her there. 

“Hi,” Carol says.

“Hey, Care Bear,” Jess says, leaning in for a quick kiss that steals both their breaths. “God, it’s so good to be able to do that.”

Carol doesn’t trust herself to speak for a couple of seconds, while Jess situates herself and buckles her seat belt. Finally she says, “We’re going on a mission tonight, no hanky panky once we’re on task, okay?”

“Who are you warning?” Jess asks, smirking.

“The one who kissed me on the hood of a Mustang.”

Jess chuckles. “I like that one, she’s got verve.”

Carol drives. It’s not a terribly long distance to get back to Ice Dream, Inc. from here. For midweek, Carol is surprised at how busy the streets are with traffic and people out and about walking around, having a good time. Weather warming up can do that, though.

“So what exactly are we doing tonight?” Jess asks. “You were vague as hell last night.”

“So… you know about all that stuff that happened with me last year, with Emma and Firestar and all that.”

Jess’s fist clenches slightly upon mention of Firestar. “I do. Are we going to tangle with mutants tonight?”

“Not exactly,” Carol says. “Well, hopefully. Hank’s been involved with the ice cream shop the last year, and he’s been hanging out with John Proudstar a lot.”

“That’s the guy who tried to stick an axe in your back, right?”

“The very same. I’ve noticed that they usually go off together after the shop closes, but I tried to follow them once and let’s just say it did not go well.”

It had been impossible to follow them, since they could both hear her every movement from far off, so far that Carol would lose them trying to stay far enough back. She’s given up recently, but with Jessica, maybe they’ve got a chance.

“So you want to see if Hank has gotten mixed up with mutants?” Carol nods, not wanting to tell her Hank’s secret. Jess continues, “Is it really any of our business who he hangs out with?”

“He’s spending time with criminals. If it were just harmless mutants I’d leave it alone.”

“I’m a criminal now. You gonna stop hanging out with me?” There’s an edge to Jess’s question despite the half smirk on her lips.

“That’s different. You said yourself that you didn’t really have a choice. Hank had a choice and he made it despite knowing what Emma did to me.”

“That’s messed up, I agree,” Jess says. She has her lower lip sucked into her mouth, and sighs. “So in the grand scheme of things, is this how I reveal to Henry McCoy that I’m back, alive and well and kicking ass?”

“It’s your ability to stay hidden that I need, Jess. You can track them from much farther away than I can. They--John--will hear us if we get too close.”

“Stealthy I can do.” Jess cracks her knuckles and stretches her neck back and forth. “Are you psyched to see Arachne in action again?”

“I’m psyched you’re here at all, Jess. Do I have to call you Arachne?”

“When we’re on mission? Maybe not. Hydra would probably get a little salty if they knew I was doing solo stuff using their codename for me.”

“Well, Angelica and I agreed to use Warbird for me when we were out doing the vigilante thing.”

“Our school mascot’s a little gauche, isn’t it?”

“There’s something I like about it. It’s angry, and militant.”

“Well, if you say so. Warbird and… Black Widow?”

Carol makes a face. “That seems like something an assassin would be named.”

“Well, you make a suggestion.”

“Tarantula?”

“You’re super bad at this, Sparrow.”

Carol grabs a penny out of the ash tray and throws it at Jess, and of course she catches because she’s got the most amazing reflexes now. She could always catch them before, but now it’s just crazy.

Carol asks, “What about something basic, like how they just add Man or Girl to the end of things?”

“We’re not superheroes, Warbird-Girl.”

“No, but like, you could be Spider-Babe.”

Jess laughs. “Gag me.”

“Spider-Girl?”

“I’d be Spider-Woman, if anything,” Jess says. “Hmm. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?”

“Do you even do, like, web stuff? We could call you Gecko Lady.”

“Ha ha. Let’s stick with Spider-Woman.”

“Spider-Woman and Warbird?” Carol tests it, and doesn’t hate it. “There’s something there, right?”

“Of course there is. It’s us.”

Carol parks in an overnight parking structure several blocks away and checks the time as they reach the neighborhood with Ice Dream, Inc. “Well, we’ve got a little time before they close up shop.”

“Oh yeah?” Jess asks, grinning. “How do you propose we… kill it?”

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

“Yes, ma’am, Captain Warbird.”

Carol and Jess make out in the hidden confines of the shadowy parking structure, and nearly forget anything else. It’s so incredibly wonderful that suddenly, now that Jess is back, Carol and Jess can finally do all these goofy teen things together. But finally Jess catches the clock on the radio and pushes back on Carol.

“Didn’t the place close twenty minutes ago?” Jess asks, pointing at the clock.

Carol glances at it, sighing and getting control of herself. They got a little messy, and she’s hot and flushed, but she nods. “Yeah, but it takes half an hour to clean up on a slow night, and they weren’t completely dead when I left.”

“So we should... “ Jess says, head cocked to the side as she licks her lips.

“We should go,” Carol says. “Just in case they did die off and got a headstart on cleanup.”

“Punctual boys, stealing all the fun.” But Jess reaches up into her hoodie and straightens things out while Carol remembers the moment fondly.

On the way out of the parking structure, Carol hooks her arm through Jess’s arm and they walk lock-step together. “I didn’t know you still had the red hoodie.”

“It was one of the only things I had--where I went.”

“You can’t tell me where you were, can you?”

Jess shakes her head. “Too dangerous. There’s a guy--another guy, not Taskmaster. He’s scarier. If it gets out that I’ve been talking, at all, me and anyone I’ve blabbed to will never know what hit us.”

“He like a mutant or something?” Carol asks.

Jess shakes her head. “Dunno. But he’s got the most perfect aim I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he knows how to miss.”

“Well, then, say no more.”

They position themselves at a corner in eyeshot of the front of the ice cream shop, and wait. Fortunately it doesn’t take long for John and Hank to step outside, lock up, and begin walking away.

“Hey,” Jess whispers, “If he’s got super good hearing, does that mean he might have other enhanced senses?”

“I guess it could, why?”

“Well, what if he smells you?”

“I was there for hours. He’d get false positives and we’ll be fine.”

“What if he smells me and remembers?”

“You’re worrying when we should be watching, and following.”

Jess nods, and they wait until the pair rounds a corner, disappearing from sight. Carol whispers, “Let’s go. They’re gonna get away.”

Jess holds her arm out, blocking Carol, and shakes her head. “Not yet. I can still hear them. They’re talking about their tips tonight. I guess it wasn’t great.”

Carol stares at Jess. “You can seriously still hear them?”

“Yeah? This is why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“I mean, sure, but I didn’t think you’d be--” As good as Hank is what she meant to say, but she stops herself. “This good.”

They wait, until Carol is so anxious that she’s about to run off for fear of losing them again, and finally Jess nods. “Okay, I can just barely hear their conversation. We can follow, but we’ve gotta do it like this.”

“Are you sure? How will we know which building they go into when they get where they’re going?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Offended you asked,” Carol whispers.

“Then let’s go.”

They follow Hank and John at a distance, several blocks away at all times. Nothing ever seems to pique their worry, and Jess honestly seems to be enjoying the game. This is a part of Jess that Carol knows about, has clashed with before recently, but now it’s strange to be on this side of it. She’s truly got abilities. And she clearly loves having them. 

Carol whispers after about five minutes of following, now that they’re leaving one area of Boston for another, a less well-to-do neighborhood, “This area’s unsafe at night.”

“We’ll be fine. You’ve got punch, I’ve got my Venom Blast.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Shut up.”

Carol snickers, but even without Jess, she wouldn’t really be worried. She’s kicked a lot of ass in this neighborhood, and rarely gotten her own kicked.

Another few minutes of following, and finally Jess holds a hand up, stopping them. “They’re not moving, I don’t think. I can’t hear footsteps.”

Without another word, Jess glances around, then darts to the concrete wall of the building next to them. It’s in disrepair, and flakes of concrete fall away as she leaps upward easily five feet, latches a hand on the wall like it’s velcro, and starts climbing. 

Carol hisses, “Hey, wait! What about me?”

“Hang back, I’ll sneak over and get a peek at what they’re doing.”

She doesn’t wait, though. She scales the concrete building, avoiding windows, and easily clears the rooftop in a matter of seconds. Carol stands there, looking at the place where Jess vanished.

So much for doing this together.

Carol leans against the wall, keeping an eye out for hoodlums, cops, anyone who might hassle her, or anyone who might have seen Jess climb the building. This particular area is a little quiet, but Carol can hear sirens in the distance, fighting from some apartment somewhere.

Then there’s a momentary whoosh of air as Jess lands in a crouch next to Carol, grinning in the streetlight.

“Shit!” Carol says, louder than she intends. She claps a hand over her mouth, but Jess shrugs. 

“You’re fine,” Jess says in her normal speaking volume. “They’re inside a building, looks rundown. A paper sign on the door says it’s called the Devil’s Plaything, an up and coming rec center for troubled youths.”

“Sounds like a front.”

“Maybe. Sorry I ran off like that,” Jess says.

“No worries. Once I can clear buildings in a single bound or whatever, I’ll just come with.”

“Fair enough. Come on, I’ll point the place out.”

Carol follows Jessica, and they find the place easy enough. It’s a brownstone building, kind of looks like it used to be a courthouse, or maybe a boarding school or something. Carol knows she’s seen it before, having vigilante-patrolled this area with Hank, and later by herself, but never gave it much thought.

“Is it possible they’re just actually doing something legit with troubled teens?” Jessica asks as they back away to find an alley and regroup.

“Anything’s possible. If I thought I could get inside and listen in, I’d be interested to know what’s happening this late at night in there.”

“You think it’s a--what was it called?”

“Hellions.”

“You think it’s a Hellions meetup? They’re recruiting and Hank is mixed up in it?”

“Like I said, anything’s possible. Can you, um, hear inside?”

“Not really. It’s all a low murmur.” She cocks her head a little and listens, then shakes it no. “Yeah, there’s maybe half a dozen in there, not counting Hank and John.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a little of that enhanced hearing,” Carol says.

“First you gotta die,” Jess jokes, but Carol doesn’t laugh, and Jess frowns. “Sorry, force of habit. You get real gallows humor when you’re on death’s doorstop.”

Carol nods, not really wanting to talk about her friend dying. “I bet. Hey. We did our thing tonight. I just needed to know where they were, and now we do. Wanna go back to the car and pick up where we left off?”

Jess grins, but says, “I mean, that sounds amazing, but we’re here. They don’t know about me. I can probably sneak in.”

Carol doesn’t want to reveal that Hank is a mutant and will probably smell her, but she can’t think of a compelling lie in the brief moment before Jess’s grin widens. 

“Yeah? I can climb up another building, look for roof access, listen in for you.”

“John will hear you.”

“Doubt it. I am quiet as a mouse these days.” Carol knows this is true. She didn’t hear Jess come back before, until she landed with a whoosh of air next to her.

“Well. What am I supposed to do, just sit down here like an asshole? Can you, I don’t know, carry me?”

“Maybe? Let’s give it a try. Hop on my back, Care--Warbird,” she corrects. 

“Aye aye, Spider-Woman.”

They sneak across the street first, find a building nearby, and Carol awkwardly climbs onto Jess’s back in a piggyback fashion, thinking her girlfriend won’t actually be able to hold her weight, but Jess stands tall even with an entire other person on her back. She barely grunts under the weight.

“My strongwoman,” Carol says, pretending to swoon. She hardly has to pretend.

“Shut it. The real test is if I can get us up the wall.”

Carol holds on tight while Jessica clings to the wall by her fingertips, and begins the arduous climb with double the weight she’s used to. But she climbs, inch by inch, in this alleyway. 

Carol asks, “How do your fingers even hold on?”

“The better question is: how do my feet hold on through my boots?” Jess lets go with her fingers, and balances on just her tiptoes against the wall, precariously holding them both aloft.

“Well, that’s terrifying. Please use your hands again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jess continues the climb up, and it doesn’t take long for them to crest the roof. Carol wisely chose not to look down as they ascended, but now that they’re safely on the roof, she glances down and feels a tiny thrill that they just risked their lives to free climb the side of a building.

“That was way weird,” Carol whispers. 

“But cool.”

“Hell yeah.”

“All right, here’s the deal,” Jess says, crouching down and whispering. Carol follows suit. “I’m gonna go across the rooftops to their building, and find an entrance. If all goes well, I’ll listen in for a few minutes, and then come back for you. Deal?”

“Do I have a choice? You’re the one who can clamber around like a bug.”

“Spider, thank you very much.”

“All bugs.”

“Rude.”

Jess leans in and kisses Carol, though, catching her off guard. She grins, and then darts off, sprinting for the edge of the roof. She leaps off as Carol stands to watch her in the moonlight, and she clears the gap between buildings easily. Carol isn’t so sure she can do the same.

She slides, rolls into a run, just like the night Carol first saw her running away, and leaps from that building to the roof of the Devil’s Plaything.

Carol waits for a tense moment, unable to see the roof from her vantage, but Jess lands with perfect grace, smiles at Carol, and turns to look for an entrance.

Jess disappears inside the building, having found an access ladder or something, and Carol waits. This part is the worst. What if Hank catches her? What if Emma’s there, and mind controls Jess? What if Hank has actually broken bad, and he hurts Jess?

All these thoughts swirl in her mind, until she’s worked up the nerve to try and leap from one building to the next, to get closer. 

But there’s a sudden commotion. Shouts from the building. A green flash from one of the windows, Jess’s Venom Blast? Carol crouches down, waiting to see what will happen next.

Jess leaps into view straight up, landing in a rough crouch before she sprints off the opposite direction of Carol. Clever.

A man climbs out of the hatch in the roof, taking off after Jess. It looks like John Proudstar, but she can’t be sure. Then Hank follows, yelling after John to stop. Jess leaps across a rooftop, clearing it easily. She stands on the other side, far enough away that in the moonlight Carol can barely make her out. But she looks… cocky? Like she’s beaten them.

John doesn’t stop, though, and Jess seems to realize this chase isn’t over as he jumps, narrowly clearing the gap, but making it. Jess takes off again with John following. Hank pauses on the rooftop of the Devil’s Plaything, looks back down in the hatch, yelling something Carol can’t hear clearly. He then sprints off after John and Jess, his leap easily clearing the gap, even better than Jess.

This is bad. Carol runs up to the edge of her building, checking the distance between rooftops. It’s greater than Carol has ever jumped, for sure, but Carol also hasn’t tried with her newfound Kree strength. Can she jump this gap, give chase? Try to stop them hurting Jess, or likewise Jess hurting them?

That decides her. This is her fault, after all. Carol backs up, screwing up her courage. She can do this. She’s got the strength, and this gap isn’t that far. She’s half-alien. She’s an intern at S.H.I.E.L.D. She’s been training.

She’s got this.

She takes off across the rooftop, arms pumping, legs working. Someone else appears on the Devil’s Plaything rooftop, and Carol can’t at all tell who it is as she sprints. She can’t concentrate on it. It’s a woman, who immediately turns to look in Carol’s direction, and shouts at her to stop. But Carol can’t stop. She’s committed.

She reaches the edge, uses the small lip to gain just that extra bit of lift, and launches herself across the gap. And for the briefest of moments, she thinks she’s fine. Wind whips past her, and just as suddenly as she thinks she’s okay, she knows she isn’t. She’s not going to clear the gap.

She’s falling short of it. This was monumentally stupid. The rooftop is only a few stories up, but she could easily crack her skull or break her neck or any other thing on the ground. 

She flails, reaching for the concrete wall that won’t have any purchase for her non-spider hands. A purple light flashes in front of her, and suddenly the concrete isn’t there anymore. Instead she has a moment of vertigo-induced terror as the world inside this purple ring that’s appeared in front of her seems to be the rooftop of the Devil’s Plaything. With no other recourse but to fall through it with her momentum, Carol closes her eyes as she tumbles through this purple rift in reality, tumbling and losing the air from her lungs as she lands in front of the mutant she recognizes.

Clarice reaches down and helps Carol to her feet, who gasps for breath, but otherwise feels okay. Clarice says, “Hank said you were up here and to help you follow them. You’re not gonna puke, are you?”

Carol isn’t sure. The longer they stand here, the farther the others get, but she’s just moved through the universe in a way that she’s sure few else ever has, save Clarice and whoever she’s taken along the ride. 

And the first thing she can think to say is, “That was fucking awesome!”

Clarice’s worried frown dissolves and she grins. In the moonlight her pinkish skin has a sheen to it, and this sheen makes her even more beautiful than usual. She’s like a fairy.

“I was worried you’d freak out.”

“Oh, I’ll freak later, Clarice. You can do that again?”

Clarice nods. “You can call me Blink.”

“I’ll call you badass, if you want.” Clarice--Blink--grins wider. She leads Carol over to the rooftop edge. 

“This is going to get a little hairy. We’ll have to move fast, and you can’t touch the edges of my portals. Got it?”

“Will it zap me to another dimension or something?”

“It’ll burn away whatever touches it. Just don’t.”

They back up a few feet, and Blink concentrates on the edge of the rooftop. Another of those purple flashes appears, widens into a portal, and in the distance a couple of rooftops over, another appears. Connecting two points in space over a long distance.

“Go, and don’t stop,” Blink says. “I’ll keep the portals opening, and we can catch up as soon as they catch your friend.”

“You better hope they don’t,” Carol mutters, but nods.

She runs and jumps through the portal, landing easily on another rooftop an entire other building over. Adrenaline spikes and her nerves hum all over her body. She feels like she’s moving faster than it should be possible for a person to move, and it’s exhilarating. Farther, faster. More. 

Blink runs behind her, and as Carol sprints to the edge of another rooftop, she watches the chase play out in strange, stop-motion images. Jess clearing a rooftop, turning left and darting away. John and Hank nearly catching her by flanking, and she leaps up and away before darting off. John nearly not clearing a gap, but Hank grabbing his hand and yanking him to safety, giving Jess a moment to increase her lead. Between each of these snapshots, Carol trusts Blink to open another portal, and they get closer as they leap through and keep running. They’re bouncing between rooftops, sometimes going higher, sometimes lower, but always closing the distance. 

Until finally Jess stops at the edge of a building with a gap that appears too big to jump. A major intersection with four or six lane roads blocking off two sides. The other two sides Hank and John flank and close in. Jess waits, catching her breath, fists glowing green with her bioelectric energy. Carol urges her to be patient. Not to attack. Hank must already know the score, especially because he knew Carol was on the roof as he came out to chase her.

Carol slows as Blink opens one last portal, and they leap through together to the rooftop that Jess and the others are on. Blink drops to the roof, sweat streaming down her face, gasping for breath. With Jess and the others in a standoff, Carol turns back to Blink.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks, bending down to check on her.

She nods, breathing heavily, wiping sweat away. For the briefest moment Carol was curious to see if any of the pink or purple skin was just makeup, but it does appear to be just her skin those incredible hues. She has the good grace to immediately regret feeling this curiosity over something that is inherent to this girl.

Blink says, “I’ll be fine. Don’t normally have to run a marathon while I make portals.”

“Yeah, well, it was the coolest thing I’ve done in--” Carol thinks. “Kind of ever?”

“Glad you enjoyed my rollercoaster,” Blink says, and there’s a tinge of something in her voice. Regret? Sadness? Carol can’t tell, but it’s not just sarcasm.

“Sorry. Thanks. I’m gonna go untangle this shitstorm over here, okay?”

“Yeah, do your thing. I’ll open a portal under your feet if you try anything.”

Carol grins, and Blink grins back. Why are all the women mutants such stone-cold badasses? It’s refreshing even while it’s infuriating. 

Carol turns to the standoff. It’s less a standoff and more of a “Hank calling John off from attacking Jess”.

Carol approaches now. Jess stands cool and collected, ready to leap away or fight back if Carol has to guess based on her posture and stance. She’s definitely had training in the last year. Her hood is up and she’s got a facemask covering the bottom of her face. Not that it matters at this point.

“Hey, we all good here, Hank?” she asks, approaching slowly, hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

He breathes heavily, but measured. He is not particularly winded. Carol notes that really only Blink is struggling. He says, “I suppose we are. John, you’re not going to attack now, are you?”

“I don’t see why we’re not dealing with this as the incursion it is. Carol and this girl are dangerous.”

“Hey, I’ve got a name, buddy,” Jess says, scoffing.

Hank says, “Jessica Drew.”

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t gonna keep it hidden if you caught me, huh?” Jess pulls her hood back and slips the mask down around her neck. “And I think you’ve got a secret, too, huh?”

Jess steps forward to Hank, and John moves to cut her off. “Hey, piss off, man, let me hug my friend.”

Hank blushes slightly, but holds a warding hand up to John. “It’s okay. She’s a friend. Carol and Jessica are friends.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” But he goes to help Blink to her feet now that her breathing has calmed.

Jessica and Hank embrace awkwardly. Carol can’t stand it; she steps forward and throws her arms around both of them. Everything went wrong when Jessica left; maybe now it’ll go back to normal between them.

Hank tenses up, but doesn’t brush either of them off. Finally, they let each other go, and Jess stands next to Carol, facing Hank. Jess whispers, “Hey, how much does he know… about you, and me, and us?”

Carol laughs. “Well, for starters,” she says in a normal voice, “if you figured out he’s got a secret, you probably know what it is. So you’re not hiding anything from him by whispering.”

“No shit?” Jess asks, and Hank nods. “Well, that doesn’t answer my question, but damn, Henry McCoy, how long have you been a mutant?” She immediately shakes her head. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question.”

He chuckles. “Well, this is not how I would have wanted other people to discover it, but if anyone, I suppose the best friend of the girl who already knows is safe enough.”

“You did know, then,” Jess confirms to Carol. Carol nods now that it’s out of the bag. “I guess it makes sense, you hanging out with all of them.”

Hank nods again. “Yes, and I should tell you, I’ve known you were back in town for weeks.”

That takes Carol by surprise as much as Jessica. “Seriously, Hank? Couldn’t warn a bitch?”

“I was attempting to track her, to make sure it wasn’t just my senses playing tricks on me, before I told you.”

“Uhhm,” Jess says, biting her lower lip nervously. “I may need to admit to… a couple more of our friends who were aware of me.”

“You’re shitting me,” Carol says. “Am I going to be pissed or sad about this?”

“I’m gonna go with pissed?” Jess says. “But I’ll tell you later why, okay?”

Carol throws her hands up in the air. “While we’re just telling on each other, do you want to tell Hank we’re gay, or should I?’

Silence hangs in the air for several seconds, and Carol blushes furiously. Hank says nothing, and Jess just smiles awkwardly. Behind them all, Blink laughs. 

“That was news?” she asks. “I knew you were gay the moment I met you.”

Carol screams wordlessly, out of sheer frustration. At least most of this was out in the open now. Carol stares at Hank, daring him to react.

“Well? Are you gonna be grossed out by us, or call us shitty names, or ghost on us?”

Hank smiles. “Carol, I’m happy for you. It was perhaps a bit of a shock, but then, you didn’t freak out on me when I admitted to being a mutant. It’s the least I could do for you even if I did have a problem with it.”

“And so we’re crystal clear,” Jess interjects, “you don’t?”

He shakes his head and glances back at John and Clarice. “I think they should sit in on the meeting.”

John scoffs. “Emma would never allow it.”

“Let me worry about Miss Frost. Please, let’s return to the Devil’s Plaything, and perhaps you two will understand better, just what Emma Frost is all about.”

Something shifts in Carol’s chest. Some worry, like a ball of stress, slides free. Just like with everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D., with Jess’s mom, with Maria. Every one opens her up a little more. Every one brings her a step closer to freedom. At least on this particular issue.

“What do you say, girlfriend?” Jess asks, sliding her arm around Carol’s back and kissing her cheek. “Hear them out?”

Carol looks back and forth between those assembled and groans. “Fine. But just so you guys know, you didn’t have my girl here cornered.” Jess preens.

“Unless she can fly or survive a four story drop without injury, we did,” John Proudstar says.

“Maybe I can, Mr. Hatchet,” Jess says, sticking her tongue out at him. “You don’t know my life.” 

Carol laughs. Can’t help it. She loves this girl so damn much.

They travel back via Blink’s portals, and it’s a much lazier, measured process, which is good because Blink is still exhausted by the time they get back, and she gratefully drops into a chair next to Manuel, who hands her a bottle of water.

Carol and Jess take cautious seats next to Hank, and everything settles down. They’re in a bit of a circle, like this is some kind of addict’s meeting, or survivor’s club. What it actually is seems to be a mutant clubhouse in the making. Carol and Jess saw cots and a pantry full of food staples on the way down. 

They listen quietly, respectfully, as John and Hank lead this support group. Manuel was kicked out just for being a mutant. Clarice ran away because she was afraid to deal with the fallout from an accident with her powers. Another kid was shunned by his entire small town community because he was completely covered in scales. John has no overt tells that he is a mutant, but that didn’t stop his older brother getting killed by an angry mob, an awful anti-mutant hate crime. Emma was the only thing that kept him John from spiraling out of control and slaughtering those he viewed as responsible.

Whatever Emma Frost is doing, ultimately, she’s also spearheading this “rec center” and using it as a cover to help mutants who are at risk of being homeless, or who can’t pass for human, or who made mistakes but aren’t bad kids.

They’re her Hellions, and Carol hates that she feels sympathy for the woman. Not a lot. But some. Emma’s maybe manipulating them, but at a minimum, she’s keeping them off the street, keeping them safe. 

At the end of the meeting, Hank and John thank them all for being there, for doing what they can for each other. Then as the meeting breaks up, John and Hank hand out some supplies and a bit of cash to each of the mutants. Most stick around, but a few go back out onto the street, to their homes or their holes in the wall. 

Carol and Jess watch it all, not knowing really what to do about any of it. Carol pulls Jess’s hand into hers and squeezes for comfort and reassurance while Hank speaks with Clarice, the last of the mutants in the meeting who hasn’t already received something and gone off.

“I don’t forgive Emma,” Carol whispers, knowing Hank is going to hear it. 

“I don’t blame you. She’s a bitch,” Jess says.

“But.”

“Yeah. This is wild.”

Clarice hugs Hank and kisses him on the cheek, and he blushes slightly as she walks away, nodding at Carol as she goes. Carol nods back. She thinks she’ll be friends with her going forward, despite what she’s sure is a nefarious plan on Emma’s part to break into banks with her portal ability.

Finally, Hank approaches Carol and Jessica. “So you see what we’re doing here.”

“I see that some good is being done,” Carol admits. “I can’t really tell you why, but I empathize with what the mutants are dealing with. I think I understand it better tonight, too.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but there’s a little more you should be aware of. This isn’t just a halfway home for wayward mutants. It’s going to be a school. A place of sanctuary and safety. This is Emma’s ultimate goal, to secure a place for castoffs to be free, to be themselves. To hone and train their abilities.”

“So she can use them for stealing stuff.”

“Carol,” Jess admonishes her. 

“It’s quite all right, Jessica.” Hank looks around at the pockets of mutants hanging around on the first floor, and sighs. “You’re no doubt correct that she will utilize their unique gifts for less than noble purposes, but ultimately it’s for a good cause. It’s to treat them with dignity and respect. It’s to show them that they aren’t just freaks, consigned to the streets and a life of petty crime until some roving band of jump-start militia men take them out, or the government decides we’re second-class citizens and rounds us up in camps.” His impassioned speech pierces Carol’s heart to the quick.

“I get all that. I really do, Hank. I’m glad you’ve found them, and you’re doing your part to help. But can you promise me that if it gets too hairy, if she starts to look like some kind of super-villain, that you won’t fall into that pit with her?”

“I can only promise that I have these kids’ best interests at heart. So long as Emma is that best interest, I will do everything in my power to keep her on the straight and narrow so that she stays that way for her little band of Hellions.”

“Good. Honest go God, Henry McCoy, I’ve been so mad at you the last year. It’s good to have some of that anger prove unjustified.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly make it easy on your state of mind, either,” Jess says.

“Yeah, ya jerks,” Carol says, chuckling. “Listen, it’s getting late. Hank, do you need a ride back to Beverly?”

“I have some more to do around here first, but thanks. Jessica, it’s wonderful to see you again, and to know that you’re safe. We were all very worried about you this last year.”

“Aww, Hank, you big softie,” Jess says, hugging him again as they wave and depart.

Back on the street, Carol heaves a huge sigh. “That was one of the weirder nights I’ve ever had, and you know how significant that is.”

Jess hugs her close against the evening chill, and they walk back to Carol’s car in the parking garage. “I do. We’ve still gotta talk about some stuff, don’t we?”

“We do. As in, who else knows you’re back, and why the hell didn’t you bring that up yet? Is it Tony?”

“Oh God, of course it’s not Tony. Gag me.”

They laugh on the way back to the car, and they share some final secrets. Carol tells Jess that Jess’s mother knows she’s gay, and that she at least made some contact via the Care Bears’ figures. Jess takes that in, sighing. 

“Well, I guess that’s one less thing to have it out with her about.”

Shit. “Do you know the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“She says she’s the reason you were ever sick.”

“Oh. That. Yeah, I heard while I was away.”

“Is that why you’re not ready to see her yet?”

“Got it in one, my smart as hell girlfriend.” She sighs. “I guess I’ll go talk to her soon. Once she and Tony know I’m back, that’s everyone that even remotely matters.”

“Yeah, so who the hell else knows you’re back?” Carol prods.

Jess tells her the story, in as few details as possible since she isn’t sure who’s listening. That Maria and Rhodey successfully tracked her down, trying to do something nice for Carol, and Jess had to defuse the situation with Hydra before they were silenced.

“Heavy shit, Spider-Woman.”

“I know. It’s crazy.” They finally reach the parking structure and are about to hop back into the car. 

“You know what’s crazier?” Carol asks.

“About a thousand things?” 

“How much I love you.”

Jess makes a sarcastic gagging noise. “And here I thought I was the girl in this relationship.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Drawed.” She does, and it’s wonderful.

A loud  _ whump _ sounds from somewhere in the distance, followed by an explosion and a minor quake that rocks the parking structure. Carol and Jess hold onto each other while a plume of fire and smoke ejects into the sky somewhere off to the east. Emergency response sirens rise up in the silent aftermath. Elsewhere, car alarms sound off from the disturbance.

In the calm before the chaos, Carol asks, “What the hell was that?”

Jess doesn’t answer. She runs to the side of the parking structure, staring out at the fire in the distance. She’s muttering something under her breath, but Carol can’t make it out. When Carol catches up, she reaches for Jess, but Jess shrugs her off and kicks off from the ground, latching on with ease to the overhanging concrete. She climbs up the side of the parking structure, hopping between levels like a little jumping spider, and Carol calls out to her, but Jess isn’t listening. 

Carol rushes back to the car, revs the engine and peels out of the parking space, driving too fast up the levels of the parking structure. She comes out on the top, tires screeching against the pavement, scraping the side of the car against the barricade as she goes.

She finds Jess standing on the roof of a tall pickup truck, gazing out at the fire. Carol clambers out of the car and up the bed of the truck, onto the roof with Jess.

The look in Jess’s eyes is stark horror. Wide, scared, completely disbelieving. Thick with tears that make the firelight reflect off her green irises.

“What is it, Jess?” Carol asks, grabbing her and holding her close, trying to get her attention. She shakes Jess, and Jess’s eyes close, flooding tears as she collapses into Carol’s arms.

She sobs, “I think that was the building I infiltrated last night. My mission was to sabotage an experiment. It wasn’t supposed to be a bomb.”

Carol holds Jess close, rubbing her hand up and down Jess’s back in cold comfort. 

“No one was supposed to die, Carol!” 

Hydra just proved who they really are, as if anyone needed it. And Jess is caught in the crossfire. Carol’s fingers clench into fists. Nobody messes with Jessica Drew and gets away with it. Not a schoolyard bully. Not an international fascist regime in hiding. 

Fucking nobody.

*****

“John, come in. I hope you have a proper excuse for coming to me this late.” Emma Frost opens the door of her fancy downtown apartment, allowing her most trusted lieutenant, John Proudstar, to enter.

He looks pensive, and she resists the urge to scoop the information from his mind without asking. As much as she hates to admit it, that damned Danvers girl has gotten into her head. 

“There’s been a development.” John tells her all about the night they’ve had, the rooftop chase of Carol’s friend Jessica Drew. That Hank allowed Carol to sit in on the meeting, to learn about Emma’s plans regarding the rec center. All of this is interesting, and he tells her all of it like it’s a death sentence, but she smiles after he finishes the tale.

“My dear Thunderbird, you’ve no idea the gift you’ve given me this night. Hank doesn’t know the truth, only the barest hint of it. And this news about the Drew girl is equally interesting. Do you know, I believe she’s going to be the perfect patsy for what’s to come.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Miss Frost? Pushing Carol Danvers has proven a poor move in the past.”

“Oh, please, we recovered from that stronger than ever before. Whatever happened to the Drew girl is going to be quite useful for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Tease: "When It Rains..."
> 
> Jess and Carol run afoul of one Taskmaster.


	12. When It Rains, It Rains On Jess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Jess confront Taskmaster and new complications after the explosion.

It takes some doing, to carry Jess off the pickup truck’s roof, and get her into the car. Carol hardly notices the dents in the roof of the pickup, the scrapes on the side of the family car. Her attention is all on the seemingly catatonic Jessica Drew.

In the distance, sirens. A helicopter with a spotlight flies overhead, capturing the flames against the glittering streets of Boston. Carol gets Jess into the car and straps her seatbelt, then gently turns her face to Carol’s. Her eyes are open but blank. She’s in complete shock.

Carol doesn’t know what else to do, so she drives. Out of the parking garage, away from the flames. Maybe distance will help. Carol can’t take Jess home, nor to Jess’s mother’s house. She can take her to Jess’s apartment in the city, though. 

It takes time, as the streets clog with people watching the flames, heedless of normal traffic. All the way there, Carol talks to Jess, soothing her, but gets no response. It’s horrific, what’s happened, but if what Jess said before she went into shock is true, it wasn’t supposed to be a bomb. People weren’t supposed to die. Her knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel. How dare Hydra put this on her Jess? She has half a mind to track them down and kick the shit out of them right now.

Carol luckily parks on the street outside Jess’s apartment building, and considers how she’s going to get Jess upstairs without a bunch of questions. There are a lot of people standing around outside, gossiping, glancing out windows. Thankfully, the burning building isn’t in direct sight, so people quickly lose interest directly around Carol and Jess.

Carol gets out of the car and circles around it, opening the door for Jess. When she doesn’t make a move, Carol sighs and leans into the car, unbuckling her, feeling around her pockets for the keys to her apartment. She slides the keys into her jacket pocket, and affects a drunken gait as she lifts Jess out of the car, holding her in a bridal carry. It’s a little awkward, and to anyone watching, it must look insane that a girl barely bigger than Jess has lifted her without issue. But really, no one is watching the two of them, and Carol gets Jess inside the apartment building, and up the elevator, without anyone questioning what’s going on. 

Carol hasn’t been up to Jess’s apartment quite yet, but she knows which one it is, and has to set Jess down in the hallway next to her door to unlock it.

Keys forgotten in the door, Carol picks Jess back up, and carries her into the dark apartment. Cursing herself for forgetting to find a light switch first, she stumbles through the dark living room, guided only by the light from the hallway, and sets Jess down in a living room chair, then wipes the sweat from her face. It’s not extreme cardio or anything, but carrying a hundred plus pounds of dead weight is  _ tough _ .

She turns to find a lamp, or a light switch, but the door swings shut, plunging the apartment into darkness. Carol has a brief moment before the light cuts off to see a hand attached to a white sleeve pressing the door shut, and then darkness.

Adrenaline spikes, and Carol takes a defensive posture. Was this Taskmaster?

“If you’re a common burglar, you might wanna let yourself out,” Carol says.

A deep adult male voice responds, nowhere near the door. Carol didn’t hear him move at all. “Nothing common about me, Carol Danvers.”

Carol spins to the voice, but the overhead light flickers on, momentarily blinding her. Taskmaster leans against the kitchen counter, face hidden behind a metallic skull mask. 

Carol laughs at him. She can’t help it. Taskmaster shifts uncomfortably, clearly not expecting this response.

“You must be the boss,” she says finally, controlling her reaction and letting the adrenaline and anger fuel her. 

“I must be. You’re in a very dangerous position, you know.” He doesn’t move from the counter, just leans on it with arms crossed. She can see the glint of the lights reflecting off his eyes now, and she wants nothing more than to punch those lights out.

She checks on Jess, who has slumped over in the chair and is still unresponsive and staring blankly at nothing.

Carol says, “Taskmaster, right?”

He chuckles, the mask rising and falling in a weird way on his face. “I see Arachne’s been telling tales. If she told you that, she’s told you some things that can’t be unlearned.”

“Something something two more takes its place.”

“We were worried about this.” Taskmaster stands to his full height, which is a little taller than Carol. He’s lean in his white hoodie, but Carol thinks maybe he’s got some kind of body armor or something on under it. It bulks out in unnatural places.

Carol walks around Jess’s chair, so that she’s got a clear line to him. “Hazard of recruiting desperate people whose hearts aren’t in it, I suppose.”

“Maybe. Arachne’s been useful, though.”

“I don’t doubt it. She’s the best at everything she does, otherwise she wouldn’t do it.”

Carol subtly takes a stance to charge, and Taskmaster says, “You really shouldn’t try it, Miss Danvers.”

Damn. She smirks hatefully at him. “Oh, I think I might, anyway.”

Before he can respond, she rushes forward, rearing a fist backward and feinting into a tackle as he prepares to dodge back. Only her arms flail out in front of her, catching nothing, as he rolls to her side like a professional football player juking, and drops an elbow into her kidney. Sharp, horrible pain lances through her as she hits the floor, thudding against the refrigerator before coming to a stop.

Taskmaster rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, waiting for her to get back up. She notes that the metal fridge door now has a wonderful Carol-sized dent in it, and this for whatever reason angers her even more.

She gets to her feet, and squares off in the tiny apartment, behind the couch and with Jess in full view in the chair. Her fingers have tensed up on the arms of the chair, but she’s still dead-eyed, slumped.

Taskmaster says, “You will not lay a finger on me.”

“I was thinking more about my foot, anyway.” She jumps forward, pulling back before fully committing to a punch, but Taskmaster doesn’t move. He is in a defensive stance, waiting. Carol gets angry. Anger fueled her in the fight against Thunderbird and Firestar. Anger fuels her on her vigilante nights.

It helps her tap into that Kree strength, and she gives in to it now. She’s certainly mad enough on Jess’s behalf. She feels it pulse through her, riding a wave of adrenaline and alien biology. She’s stronger, faster, quicker to react. 

She grins, and steps toward Taskmaster. She can see in his eyes that he’s watching her closely. He can tell something’s changed. But her sudden increased speed and strength can’t be anticipated, can it?

She moves in, taking a boxer’s stance and forcing him to retreat or engage. He backs up, and as soon as he takes one step back, she charges in, throwing furious jabs and hooks, expecting to catch him slightly off guard as he retreats at one speed and she suddenly speeds up. 

But without missing a beat, Taskmaster dodges left, away from the living room and into the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom. Carol trips forward a bit, and he easily kicks out to her side while she’s unsteady, and she falls back into the couch, where it scrapes against the floor. She takes a brief moment to stabilize herself, but Taskmaster gives her no chance, and clotheslines her over the couch like some kind of demented WWF wrestler. Her whole world spins and she crashes into the coffee table, which doesn’t break like it does in the movies. Instead her back just absorbs the impact and she loses all the breath from her lungs.

Still Jess doesn’t move or take notice.

Carol rolls off the coffee table towards the front door, struggling to breathe and orient herself after that embarrassing tumble.

“You can leave now and avoid what comes next,” Taskmaster says.

“Uh huh,” Carol gasps, getting her breath back. “I’m definitely just gonna leave you here with Jess, you Skeletor wannabe.”

Carol steps up to the coffee table, jumping at Taskmaster over the couch, but uses her momentum to instead kick the couch back at him as he dodges to her right. She thinks she’s caught him as she comes down on the couch cushions, but he just lets himself be shoved and recovers almost instantly, using his backwards momentum to yank on Carol’s arm and pull her off-balance.

And before she really knows what’s happening, he’s got her in a headlock, facing the hallway. Carol’s been trained for this and she tries to create space between her neck and the crook of his elbow wedged against it. She attempts to throw him off balance when that doesn’t work, but he masterfully locks her legs and uses the couch as leverage to keep them upright. She scratches at his arm, but it meets thick resistance under his hoodie. She tries to leverage her body for a headbutt, but Taskmaster anticipates every single motion she makes, killing her momentum before she can even begin.

And her body is entering panic mode, fighting to breathe. Instinct takes over, and all her training leaves her brain. She’s about to fucking die to a dude in a skull mask, and all that S.H.I.E.L.D. training is failing her.

She makes a strained squeak as the last of the air escapes her lungs, but it sounds pitiful, like a mouse caught by a cat.

Taskmaster says, “I told you, not a finger. Goodbye, Carol Danvers. You were not a worthy opponent.”

Carol’s vision darkens, and she struggles until there’s just nothing left. Her training, her Kree heritage, her vim, vigor, piss and vinegar: it’s all for nothing against an agent of Hydra. 

She loses consciousness, struggling to see Jess just one last time. Her last image is of Jess’s fingers curling and flexing before she drops away entirely.

Goodbye, Drawed. I’m sorry.

“Let her go,” Jess says, standing from the couch. She has no memory of coming back to this apartment, but she heard Carol’s tiny voice, desperate, afraid. She’s never heard Carol that afraid in her life, and that shocked her right out of her stupor.

Taskmaster scoffs and tightens his hold on Carol, preparing to snap her neck and finish the job. 

Jess says, “Kill her, and you’ll have to kill me.”

“I’m strongly considering it, Arachne,” he hisses. “Bullseye was right. More trouble than you’re worth.”

“You can’t listen to that guy. He’s unstable as hell. And just an asshole.”

That elicits a chuckle from beneath Taskmaster’s mask. “This is a problem for us, I hope you’ll agree.”

“The only problem is how many volts of Venom Blast you can take before your brain melts.” Matching threat to action, she generates the green glow in both hands. “You’ll be dead before she hits the ground, I can promise you that. Now let. Her. Go.”

Taskmaster shrugs, releasing his death grip on Carol’s neck and easing her over the back of the couch, letting her drop into a supine position on the cushions. He cracks his knuckles and stares at Jess.

Jess lets her Venom Blast dissipate, and checks Carol’s pulse. Thankfully she’s still breathing. 

Taskmaster leans against the wall next to the hallway. “You’re toeing a dangerous line, Arachne.”

Jess heaves a big sigh of relief, kissing Carol’s forehead and glaring at Taskmaster. “Sorry, I didn’t realize terrorism was part of the deal.” Her stomach lurches the moment she thinks of all the people who might have died. “How many were in the explosion?”

Taskmaster shrugs. “I’m your handler, not your newspaper. Watch the news tomorrow if you need to settle your conscience.”

“God, you’re a prick.”

“It was time to take off the kid gloves, anyway. Arachne, you’re a spy and a terrorist.”

“No.” Of course she is. Gone are any notions that she was doing something good. That Hydra was helping anybody but themselves. Those lab techs she overheard on the roof the night before, they couldn’t have been evil. They were just doing their best.

“What would you call it, then?”

“I don’t know. Can you at least tell me why the place was blown up? What were they doing that H wanted gone?”

Taskmaster tosses Jess a small packet in response. It’s an envelope with cash, S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials, and a small business card with an address on it.

“What’s this?”

“The labs you’ve been hitting are competition. The hardware you’ve taken or sabotaged would have been essential in stopping what’s next. The materials you’ve recovered are going to accelerate the Supreme’s plans.”

“I’m not doing any more of this.”

“You are if you want out with your life. You and your little girlfriend.”

“I swear to God if you threaten Carol again, I’ll make you regret it.”

“We’ve got a couple more missions for you to do here in Boston, and then those--” He nods at the packet. “--will help with your final mission.”

“Final as in you’re gonna kill me after it?” Jess asks.

“Final as in, if you want out, you do these things for us, and you can walk away. We’ll have everything we need, and though the Supreme doesn’t like letting assets with damaging intel walk away, I’ve assured him that you won’t be any trouble once we get what we want.”

“And what is it that you want? Why do I have S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials?”

“It took years to get that, Arachne. When the time is right, you will go back to their base outside Boston, for another checkup. You will figure out a way to stay the night for observation. And then when the base is asleep, you will infiltrate Howard Stark’s lab and bring us his current research.”

“Which is?”

“Classified, of course.”

“That’s not helpful for an operative. I’m not going in again without a full understanding of what I’m doing, and how it’s going to hurt people.” She’s mad, and scared, but mostly she’s worried that she’s so calm about this. She most certainly helped murder scientists tonight, but her training has kicked in. She’s compartmentalizing. She can be ashamed later. 

“We don’t know,” Taskmaster says. “The Supreme wants it, that’s what we know. Our  _ asshole _ friend has been preparing this final step while you cleaned up around the city.”

“When does this final mission need to be complete?”

“That’s on you. We have no idea what he’s working on, if he’s been successful, if you can even carry it out. If you think you can trust your intern friend here, I suggest using her to gather intel for you.”

“Carol absolutely won’t do that.” She’s pretty sure. Mostly sure. Carol might do anything for Jess, though. She needs to take that into consideration. “I’ll get this done.”

“Good. And you have my word, such as it’s worth to you, that you complete these final few missions, and you won’t have to see us ever again.”

“Makes finishing it fast pretty damn compelling.”

Taskmaster chuckles under his mask. “Good luck, Arachne. I feel like you’re gonna need it.” He passes by her, leaves the apartment without another word, and Jess holds in her panic long enough to grab the keys in the lock and then lock the door behind him. 

Her breath busts out of her in a hyperventilating rush, and she slides down the door, palms pressed to her temples and worry sliding back in.

Just commit government espionage and theft, and you can go free. Sure.

Jess knows better. If she completes these missions, Bullseye will be there to silence her after. Hydra doesn’t just let its assets retire after a job well done. Especially ones who aren’t loyal to the cause.

What a god-damned mess. She sniffs back tears and gets to her feet. No use crying about it. Carol needs her right now. She was deprived of oxygen, however short that was. Nothing good happens to the body during hypoxia.

Jess runs some water, wets a cloth, and gets a glass of water as well. She isn’t sure how Carol will come out of her unconsciousness, but she knows Carol and it’s probably not going to be pleasant. So she sits down on the coffee table, which--while not broken--has seen better days. It’s got a big crack in it from whatever fight Carol and Taskmaster had.

She squeezes the washcloth over Carol’s forehead, dripping cool tap water over her face. The response is immediate. Carol shoots up, knocking Jess’s hand away, cursing and wiping at her face, fist raised for a fight.

“It’s okay, Carol. He’s gone,” Jess soothes.

She sighs heavily as she comes to awareness of her surroundings. “Oh, shit, Jess, I kinda thought I was dead.”

“I’m the only one who gets to do that in our relationship.” The joke is a poor one, but she smiles anyway. “I have some good news and some ‘we’re fucked’ news. Which do you want?”

Jess turns the TV on and sits next to Carol on the couch, handing her the glass of water. “You might need to take it easy for a bit. Being choked out is never pleasant.”

“Well--”

“Can it, perv.” But Jess is glad her girlfriend has a sense of humor, while she runs over the new plan and they watch news coverage of the explosion. As near as the news can tell, only two people were caught in the blast of whatever experiment they were working on. And one of them survived, is in critical condition at a hospital. The other, a young lab tech, was closer to the blast and caught pretty much the full thing. She’s directly responsible for that life. That death. She pushes it away for now.

“This is pretty god-damned heavy, Jess,” Carol says after Jess turns the news off, and tosses the packet with her S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials on the coffee table. “But hey, at least you came out of your shock or whatever.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if that says a good or bad thing about me, to be honest.”

“Let’s go with good, since there’s really not a lot of it going around.”

“There’s a big asterisk on that good news, too,” Jess says.

“No kidding. We can’t really talk about it here, can we?”

Jess shakes her head. “We should go somewhere else to plan.”

Plan to infiltrate and steal highly classified tech from Howard Stark. Crazy day.

Days pass, and they plot and plan. Carol’s finals finish, and she gets nagged by her mother, and Kelly, about prom. That prom hasn’t already happened is weird, but there were apparently scheduling conflicts with the venue in Boston they had rented out, so it got delayed. This is the furthest thing from Carol’s mind, and yet there’s some amount of “normal life” that she should be engaging in.

No, Carol wants to talk to S.H.I.E.L.D. and get them all under protection, but Jess thinks it’s a bad idea, and after explaining that her credentials had to come from someone inside, Carol agrees. They don’t know who they can trust. Carol’s pretty sure she can trust Lawson and Stark. But even so. If there’s any chance of getting them free of this craziness, they need to toe the line. Carol also agrees that Hydra isn’t about to just let them go after they steal Stark’s tech, whatever it is. Hydra operates in secret, and two teenage girls knowing about them doesn’t really fit the modus operandi.

Over the weekend, they decide to take a break, and have a movie night over at Jess’s apartment. No planning, no missions, no shop talk. Just girlfriends watching the original  _ Alien _ , and cheering for Ripley with her long curly mane.

Sigourney Weaver has been on screen for barely a minute, and Carol leans over to Jess on the couch, plucking at her blonde curls. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re adorable, but I miss the long, black hair.”

Jess tosses popcorn at Carol. “No flirting. Nothing scary’s even happened yet.”

Carol harrumphs, but plucks the popcorn off her chest and eats it, settling into Jess’s side. “Full disclosure, I’m copping a feel when the first jump scare happens.”

“If you can wait that long, I’ll be amazed.”

Despite themselves, they get into the movie. Carol forgot just how damn good this movie is, just on every level. Strong female lead, scary monster, weird gross android, tension just perfect. And then just when you think everything’s going to be all right, and she made it safely away with her doofus cat... Things calm down, the music is gone, and she strips down to her whities. Jess whistles appreciatively and Carol has gotten a little flushed looking at Ripley.

“Okay, I know there’s about to be a jump scare, but damn,” Carol says while the movie plays. “You should probably put the popcorn down.”

“Why?” But Jess is already tossing the mostly-empty popcorn bowl to the coffee table.

“Because we know how this movie ends, and wouldn’t you rather see how another story starts?” She kisses Jess, and tastes salt and butter. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to being able to do that.”

“They say--” Jess says between kisses, “--that immersion therapy can help.”

“I forgot you were a nerd just like me,” Carol says, giggling. 

“I’m a well-rounded individual, thank you very much.”

“Some of you is well-rounded, thank  _ you _ very much.”

Jess chokes back a laugh and shifts so that her back is to the side of the couch, and pulls Carol forward, so that she has to lean in and lay on top of her. “You know Taskmaster’s probably listening, or watching, this.”

“That’s a good way to ruin the mood.” But Carol doesn’t let up. She uses her elbows to prop herself up above Jess, and kisses her again. “He can watch, if he wants. Maybe we can get him arrested for watching underage girls.”

Jess snorts laughter now. “Wouldn’t that just be amazing?”

The movie comes to an end, and Carol sits back up, hunting for the VCR remote. “It would maybe solve a problem. You wanna watch the second one?” Carol holds up the VHS copy of  _ Aliens _ while Jess fishes the remote out of the couch cushions. She stops the movie, sets it to rewind while the nightly news is on channel 4. 

Her mouth drops open and she nudges Carol. The volume increases on the TV and the newscaster’s voice gets louder: “We’re aware that this is frightening footage, but we feel compelled to report the news, and our Boston residents have a right to know who is in their backyard--or in this case, on their rooftops.” 

A grainy video, like a security feed, shows an empty rooftop. Carol doesn’t recognize it at first, but then a figure leaps into frame, clad in a red hoodie, her hood disheveled a bit. Blonde hair and a flash of eyes as she lands hard on the rooftop. The camera tracks her motion as the woman breaks into a hatch on the roof, disappears inside. The feed cuts, and she is seen leaping out of the hatch, landing in a crouch before taking off across the rooftop. The camera follows her movement as she leaps from one rooftop to another, clearing a massive gap that no normal human could manage. The footage cuts off before anyone else shows up.

“This is from the other night with the mutants,” Jess says. Carol’s gut churns. 

“Wait.” She listens to the news report. There were several break-ins over the last couple of nights, burglaries and assaults. Reports of mutant activity, some lawless person out there using their freakish powers (the news uses these words) to intimidate and steal from good, honest citizens. 

“This is bullshit,” Jess says.

“This is Emma God Damn Frost.” Carol’s fists clench. “Her little group of Hellions is out there, stealing and causing problems, and she’s using you as cover.”

“I don’t care about that. We can tell that’s me. So will others. My cover is blown.”

“Maybe not.” 

“Look, even if the powers that be don’t realize it, my mother almost certainly will.”

“Well, shit.” Carol sits back down to soothe Jess, but Jess’s Hydra beeper goes off, causing them both to jump at the unexpected noise.

Carol says, “As if we needed evidence you’re burnt.” Jess grabs the pager from the kitchen counter, staring at it in disbelief.

She reaches for the phone and says, “I have to call.”

“Do you need me to step outside?”

Jess shakes her head no. “You’re in this, and Taskmaster knows it.”

She calls a number from the pager, enters a series of numbers afterwards as a pin code, and then listens. Carol can just barely hear the tinny voice of Taskmaster on the other end, but can’t make out what he’s saying. It’s not angry, but it is hostile.

Jess occasionally grunts acknowledgement, says yes or no, and then hangs up as she walks over to the window.

“Are you going on the run?” Carol asks, standing and wringing her hands together nervously. Not so soon after getting her back!

Jess shakes her head, opening the window and leaning far out. She struggles with something, and comes back in with a parcel and a bolt she’s yanked out of the wall. “Looks like H is good for one thing. I requested a stealth outfit and they provided.”

Jess tears open the parcel, which is a little puffed out, and she smiles with appreciation. “This… is not exactly what I asked for.”

“Is it like some terrible onesie with a boob window?” Carol asks, stepping forward to get a peek. Jess holds the open parcel to her chest. 

“Uh uh. Not until I try it on.” She disappears back into her bedroom to change. Carol glances out the window, trying to figure out where the parcel was delivered from, but nothing strikes her as hidden. But if they had someone ready to hand off a package in this manner, that means Hydra is always ready to do something drastic with their operatives.

She lowers the blinds and waits, imagining what Jess is going to come out looking like. She requested a stealth suit, so something black? Tight and dark, with a utility belt and a grappling hook. Maybe a cape. Carol chuckles at the thought.

The door clicks as it opens, and Jess steps out.

It’s dark in the hallway, and all Carol sees at first is a black silhouette. Her hair is different, and her shape is well-defined as she steps out into the light of the living room.

Carol wolf whistles. “How does a full body-suit leave basically nothing to the imagination?”

It’s mostly black, form-fitting. Sleek and sexy. A red stylized spider across the chest has a little yellow triangle on its abdomen, and there are other yellow triangular accents on the backs of her hands, on her forehead.

She’s got a black wig on, long, sleek, straight. Under the wig, the mask covers the top half of her face with giant white eyes. The shoulders and down the arms are a deep red with black spider-web accents, and the same on her fingers and toes/heels. 

“I look ridiculous.” Jess folds her arms in front of her chest, and the part of her cheeks that is visible has turned a deep crimson.

“Ridiculously badass,” Carol counters. “I mean, hot damn, Spider-Woman.”

Jess grins uncertainly. “It’s not… too much?”

“It’s a whole lot, but I recently teamed up with a woman in a bright yellow bodysuit and flame red mask. This is positively mundane in the ‘too much’ department.”

“It’s  _ so tight _ ,” Jess says. “And I don’t know what the hell it’s made out of, but I practically can’t tell I’m wearing anything.”

“We can arrange that,” Carol says, stepping up to Jess and running a hand up her arm, tracing a spider-web up to her neck.

“You’re awful,” Jess says, but she is clearly pleased with the response. 

“So you get spotted as Jess leaping across a rooftop, and H’s response is to give you a costume that screams ‘I’m here to rob and/or murder you’?”

“For a subtle, shadowy, illegal organization, they sure have no chill, huh?” She adjusts the wig a little bit. “I can see this being itchy.”

“You’ll get used to it. And hey, it’s the color you like.”

“I  _ will _ get my long black curls back someday.”

Jess lifts an arm above her head. Carol can see a bunch of extra material, but it’s folded in some strange way. Jess says, “Hold up. I think they gave me the thing I requested special.” She plucks at it with her other hand, and Carol leans in close to look. It doesn’t pop open or release or anything, and Jess huffs.

“If you were going to fly,” Jess asks, “how would you set your arms? Like a bird?”

Carol’s eyes widen. “Okay, first of all, spiders don’t fly. And if they can in some obscure part of the world, I am  _ never _ going there.”

“Carol.”

“I don’t know. If you have wings, I guess like your arms are a bird’s wings. Like this.” She snaps her arms out to her sides, and Jess emulates the motion. Thin, gossamer material folds out, a spider-web pattern, connecting from her wrist all the way to her pelvis.

“Holy shit, you do have wings.”

“It’s a wingsuit. Well, modified.”

“I’ve seen those. They let you skydive and slow your descent, cover vast distances. This doesn’t look like it can do the same for you. It’s not enough material, and don’t they normally cover between the legs, too? They’re like mini-parachutes, and this is barely anything.”

Jess shrugs. “It was just a thought I had. You know when we went bungee-jumping, and there’s that moment of weightlessness on the rebound?”

“Feels almost like flight, yeah.” Carol knows it all too well, is always chasing it.

“So it’s different for me now. I can’t really explain it, but when I’m in the air, leaping, I can feel it. It’s not just a strong jump, but something different.”

“You think you can fly with this?”

“I don’t know about that. Glide, though? If the wind is right.” She flaps her arms and Carol chuckles, but she’s also insanely jealous. 

“Gotta say, it’s super not cool that you’re gonna be zipping around the sky if this works. You didn’t even want to go skydiving with me last year!”

“What can I say?” Jess says. “New year, new Spider-Woman.”

“Maybe you can carry me, if it works.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Care Bear. I don’t even know if it works.”

“Let’s go test it out.”

Jess grins. “Famous last words of Carol and Jess, who were found flattened like pancakes in downtown Boston.”

But she doesn’t say no.

*****

Things are weird and tense after the night of relaxation, but Jessica ‘s cover with S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to be intact. No agents came knocking at her door. No jackboots in the night. If they’re paying attention to the Boston news and the “mutant” situation, she’s not associated with it based on that footage. So she wears the black wig, and does her missions. And the moment she’s truly worried about finally comes to pass. A hurried and hushed phone call from Carol confirms it.

So Jessica Drew now stands on the front porch of the home she grew up in. The house has seen better days, and could use a bit of tender loving care on the normally lush lawn and cheerful flower beds. It's the middle of the afternoon, and her mother’s car is parked in the driveway where Jess parked her beater. Jessica screws up her courage for this confrontation, wondering how it is that she can risk her life on the daily by working for Hydra, but talking to her own mother is impossible.

She has her keys to the house, even after all this time, and she lets herself in. The smell of her home is the same, and for a brief moment, she’s four years old again, running up the steps to claim her bedroom. Getting winded at the top of the steps because she’s sick. Sleepovers with Carol as they discover they’re both weirdos in the best way, and will be forever inseparable. Loving family dinners always tinged with an aura of sadness because they all know she’s not long for this world.

Well, she’s all better, mama, and now it’s time for the reckoning.

Her mother appears in the doorway from the kitchen, hand to her chest, face scrunched up in anticipation. When she sees Jess, with her black wig and red leather jacket, healthy as the day is long, Miriam Drew’s eyes fill with tears and she rushes forward while crying Jess’s name.

And despite herself, Jess’s tears come. This is her mother, after all. You don’t just forget all the love and good times because you find out all the pain and agony you suffered for your entire life is her fault. They embrace, and Jess’s hug is perhaps not quite as tight, not as sincere, as Miriam’s.

They stand like this for what feels a lifetime to Jess, and she finally pushes back on her mother. Miriam laughs and cries at the same time as she holds Jess at the shoulders and takes her in.

“It’s really you. I knew I wasn’t crazy. I could never forget those blonde curls from when you were younger.”

“Yeah, it’s me, Mom.”

“Are you okay? They’re calling you a mutant on the news, but I know for a fact you don’t have the X gene in your body.”

She leads Jess to the dining room table, and they sit down. Miriam hasn’t let go of Jess’s hands since the moment they stopped hugging. Jess’s skin crawls, but she leaves it for now.

“I’m good now. Dad took care of me, like he said he would. I’m all better.” She smiles a little, wondering if her face betrays the feeling inside her, how she can hardly look at her own mother, for knowledge of pain and agony.

“Your father, is he coming home?” Hope that she’s going to have her life back, that everything will go back to normal. It feels so good and bad simultaneously, to crush it.

“I don’t know, Mom. Probably not. He made some promises to some dangerous people in exchange to do what he did. To get me cured.”

“Do you know who the dangerous people are?” her mother asks cautiously.

“I made a deal with them, too.”

Her mother’s eyes widen in shock. “No. Honey, why would you do something like that?”

“Like mother, like daughter.”

The fear and sadness fall away, replaced with petty anger. “Of course he told you it’s my fault.”

“He didn’t, Mom. I heard all about it from others.”

“Did you get the whole story? Or just the synopsis where I look like a terrible mother who neglects her child in a nuclear hot zone?”

“I got enough. Why would you bring me to a place as unsafe as that, Mom? Why?”

“We thought it was going to be safe! They told us it was important, and that everyone would be fine if we took precautions.”

“Yeah, well, hard to toddler-proof a nuclear fallout zone.”

Her mother’s tears come back. “You don’t think I’ve agonized over that for your entire life? That I haven’t woken up drenched in cold sweat over what I did to you? Because I loved you too much, and wouldn’t leave you alone while you were so young.”

“As opposed to staying behind while the rest of the many headed Nazis did their experiments. You loved me so much you couldn’t bear to part with me. But you loved your work too much to stay away from it for my sake.”

“You can hate me, Jessie. Lord knows I deserve it.”

“I don’t, that’s the problem.” Jess stands up, pulling her hands from her mother’s. “I want to. You put me through so many impossible nights. So many days of weakness so debilitating I had to have nurses wipe my ass. I had to pretend to be strong in front of Carol so she wouldn’t kill herself worrying over me.”

“She never gave up on you, you know.”

“I know. She’s the reason I had the will to fight. To keep on fighting even when the treatments sapped all my strength. To keep on breathing even though my hair fell out. To keep on believing just a little bit that her love kept me alive.”

“She knows you’re back, doesn’t she?” Jess nods, not trusting herself to speak. “How long have you been back?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m back, but I’m not moving home.”

“Honey, you’re still a minor, you can’t--”

“You think the people I work for give a shit about that? I have a false identity that says otherwise. I don’t even need emancipation, because as far as this country is concerned, I’m an adult. And I’m cured.”

“WIll you at least tell me where you are, so I can come see you?”

Jess shakes her head. “I’m not ready for that. I showed up here because of that video on the news. Figured you’d see me eventually. And Carol confirmed that for me, so thanks for that.”

“I’m so sorry, Jessie. For everything. You have to believe that.” Her mother reaches for Jess again, and Jess holds back. 

“Uh huh. And I guess Carol told you about the other big news.”

Miriam smiles. “That you and she are… a couple?” She stumbles over the words. That Jess is alive due to a miraculous scientific cure at the hands of psychopathic fascists doesn’t phase her. That Jess has powers now doesn’t even register. But her daughter’s gay? That gets a reaction.

“Yeah, Mother. That I’m--” She stumbles over it herself, suddenly. Is she gay? Bi? Carolsexual? She honestly doesn’t know, but she knows that she loves Carol. “Gay.”

“She did. It’s not what I wanted, but honestly, sweetie, you’re back and alive and that’s all that really matters. We can work through the other stuff, if you’ll give me a chance.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to.” Her mother stands back up and reaches for Jess. Her desire to physically recoil is great, but she holds it in. This is her mother, not a viper.

“I don’t have to do anything. Now I’m gonna leave, and you’re gonna let me.”

“No, Jess, you just got back.”

“I’ve been here for over a month, Mom.” Miriam’s eyes go wide again. “Yeah, a whole month. At first I was just in hiding, doing missions. Then I got the all-clear to reveal myself to my friends and family, and you know what?” Miriam’s tears are flowing freely now. “I showed myself to the people who matter.”

Miriam Drew lets her daughter go, and Jess steps back from her. “Is that really how you feel?”

Jess shrugs. “I don’t know, Mom. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I saw you. Now I know. I’m not here to hurt you with fists and energy powers. But I am here to hurt you. You deserve so much. And no matter how much you feed yourself into the self-destructive blame game, it’s not enough. Not until I say it is.”

“Jess…” her mother says, trailing off. There is pure sadness and betrayal in her face, in her voice. Good. She shouldn’t be happy. She shouldn’t think she’s worthy of it after fifteen years of weakness, and pain, and humiliation. Shame and degradation.

“Goodbye, Mother. I’ll see you again when the hurting finally stops.”

That seals it for MIriam Drew. She drops back into a chair, furious regret in her eyes. Sadness and tears. Jessica Drew walks out of the house, shoulders up, head high. She feels good about what she’s just done, right up until she gets into her beater of a car. Then she loses it, like her mother lost it. She cries until she has no tears left. Hydra agents don’t cry for their mothers. They don’t cry at all.

If she wants any chance at living through this, she’s gotta be more trouble to kill than leaving her alive. It’s the only way she’ll survive. She checks the time and knows Carol should be home from her internship soon. A loving face is just what she needs right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 in two weeks! It's been angsty and drama-filled for a few chapters, so how about we keep doing that? Also there'll be dancing.


	13. And Now, A Dance Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol reluctantly goes to prom. Secrets come out. Dance happens.

Carol gets ambushed the moment she walks in the door from her internship. Her mother has just served a can of soda to Tony Stark, who sits at the kitchen table with a small bouquet of brightly colored flowers next to him. He immediately stands as she walks in, and holds the flowers out to Carol, while Marie Danvers beams.

“Her idea,” he mouths where Marie can’t see it, and Carol sighs with relief. “These are for you.”

“Thanks?” Carol takes them, and glances between Tony and her mother. “If this is what I think it is, the answer is no, with several swear words before it. And probably a couple after.”

“Won’t you even consider it?” her mother asks. “The prom is tomorrow, and I’ve already gotten you out of work, though apparently half the employees had already scheduled the time off.”

Ugh. Wait, does that mean Hank is going? She knows Kelly is going, had tried to get Tony to invite her for a little while, but they’re the only three that go to Beverly High and work at Ice Dream, Inc.

“You seriously called my job?”

“What, you hate the place, anyway. The manager, Miss Frost, sounded very nice, which is probably why you don’t get along with her.”

“Sure, that’s why,” Carol mutters. Her mother knows a bit about what happened with Emma Frost, but not the extent to which Carol had been violated. Better that way.

Carol sighs, though. “Where’s Dad?”

“Late night pizza party to celebrate your brother’s big game-winning home run.”

The men are gone. Tony and Marie are here. They’re the last she needs to tell. Who deserve to know.

Her stomach twists up into a knot, but she looks to both of them. “I’m not going to prom with Tony Stark, or any other boy.”

Her mother doesn’t get it, but Tony’s eyes narrow. Something inside him shifts, she can see it. Puzzle pieces fitting together. The Rubik’s Cube sliding that last color into perfect harmony with all six sides. And he’s disappointed. Even after all this time of rebuffing him whenever he decides to flirt, he still had hopes. That feels monumentally bad to Carol, but better he learns it at all. Better she tells him, than he accidentally discovers it.

“Well, you can go stag. That’s what all the cool girls do, anyway, isn’t it?”

Tony says, “You had someone… different, in mind, didn’t you?”

Carol nods. Oh, God, is this where she admits that Jess is back, too?

“Well, who is it?” her mother asks. “That nice Henry fellow? He’s a little bookish for you, but you could ask him. Or were you waiting for someone to ask you?”

She scoffs. This is the most stereotypical thing she could possibly be doing. “Oh my God, Mom, no. I’m gay.” 

There’s complete silence for several seconds as the word hangs in the air. Tony shrugs. “I guess I kinda knew.”

“If you try to make this about you, I will punch a hole in your chest no doctor can fix.”

He holds up hands in a warding gesture. “Nope. I think it’s clear.” His eyes dart to the doorway behind Carol, and go wide in shock. “Also you should turn around.”

Carol spins, ready for trouble, but it’s Jess. Oh God, this is the night. Marie Danvers gasps, hands to her mouth. Jess is wearing her black wig, and she waves at Carol with a big smile. Carol’s close enough that she can see Jess has been crying. So she did it. She talked to Miriam. 

Carol laughs, a short, stunted thing. Perfect. She opens the door, and Jess throws her arms around her, hugs her tight and waves at Tony and Marie. “Hi, guys! Uh. Surprise?”

“Holy shit,” Tony says, accepting a hug from her after she lets Carol go. She hugs Carol’s mom, then, who has tears in her eyes. The entire gay admission has just wafted straight out of her mind for this moment.

“So, yeah, by the way, Jess is back,” Carol says. 

“How long have you known?” Tony asks. He takes the flowers from Carol and hands them to Jess. “Sorry, I know you just did a whole thing, but she just came back from the dead. That trumps, uh--”

Jess’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, Care Bear, did you just--”

“Yeah. Way out of the closet. Out on a limb here.”

“Care Bear?” Tony says, and Carol stares daggers at Jess. That nickname is not allowed to spread. 

“Um. Okay. We should probably sit down, have a chat, yeah?” Jess says, taking a seat for herself at the kitchen table.

It takes some time, and Carol’s mother is in shock, it seems, but the basic story gets out there. They found each other that last night, the bucket list night. She came back only recently. They’re girlfriends, now.

And after it’s all out in the open, and Tony just shrugs again, Carol looks at her mother. “Mom? Are you gonna be okay with this?”

“You’re going to the prom with Tony,” she says.

Carol blinks rapidly in disbelief at her mother. “What the--did your brain melt down just now?”

“No, honey, thank you for the benefit of the doubt.” She points at Tony and Jess. 

“Oh!” Tony says. “I’m the fake date, right?”

“Exactly. For Carol and Jessica.”

“Sorry, what’s happening?” Jess asks.

“I think I’m asking you to prom?” Carol says.

“Oh.” Jess grins. “Wait, are you?”

This is so weird to be doing in front of her mother and Tony Stark, of all people. Carol stands up, takes the flowers that were meant for Carol to begin with, and offers them back to Jess. “Jessica Drew, be my date for the stupid prom?”

“Can I be your stupid date at the glamorous prom?”

“Ugh, just say yes.”

“Of course!” She hops up and throws her arms around Carol, and then kisses her before remembering that they’re in front of Carol’s mother.

“Sorry, Mrs. D.”

“It’s quite all right, Jess. I suppose my daughter being a rebel extends to more than just authority, doesn’t it?”

“Mom, that’s not--”

“Poor joke, dear. I’m happy for you.” She glances at Tony and Jess, and says carefully, “Where I come from, we’re more accepting.”

“I had a feeling it might be,” Carol says, hoping her mother figures out she learned it was different for the Kree.

“Well, now. If the prom is tomorrow, we’ve got to get you outfits, right?” Tony says, and Carol smiles. 

“I still have my tux from last year.”

Jess says, “You better get it let out a bit, then. You’ve grown.”

Tony says, “I’ll get it all taken care of. Jess and I can do it tomorrow, and meet you here tomorrow night?”

Carol nods. She sighs with relief. “Can’t believe I’m going to the god damn prom with my girlfriend.”

“And a billionaire.”

“He’s not even trying to hide it anymore, is he?” Jess asks, elbowing him playfully.

Going to the prom with her girlfriend, who everyone thinks is probably dead. What could go wrong?

Carol thinks she’s just getting her tux back, but what Jessica Drew arrives with is something like that, but not quite. There’s a bit of a to-do with her father and brother upon seeing Jess alive and well, with the long, straight, black wig seeming at once out of place and yet close to perfect. Then her father sees the outfit meant for Carol, with its very loud jacket and vest, and a goddamned top hat. 

“I’m confused,” Joseph Danvers says. “Is this some sort of, what do they call it, masquerade prom?”

“That’s not a thing,” Marie Danvers assures him. “It’s just your daughter being especially rebellious.”

Carol takes the cue and scoffs. “Look, I’m going to the stupid prom, aren’t I? No one ever said I absolutely had to wear a frilly dress.”

“This come out of your ice cream money?” he asks, examining it and trying the hat on for good measure. With a second day unshaven face, he looks like some kind of rapscallion out of Oliver Twist, looking to swindle some folk for a buck. Or a shilling. Farthing. Whatever.

“Actually, a gift from her date,” Jess says, and Carol glares at her.

“That rich kid from your internship? Starch or whatever.”

“Yes, Dad. My date is Tony Starch.” Jess stifles laughter.

“You could do a lot worse than him. He’s a few years older than you, though, right?”

“He’s 20 to my 17, it’ll be fine.”

“Hey.” He gets serious. “If you like this guy, lock him down. Some fancy tech kid with an inheritance bigger than your brother’s college fund, and doesn’t seem to care that you dress and look like this all the time? You could do worse, but I’m not so sure he could.”

Carol sours at that. Her mother says, “Oh, Joseph, come on, don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I’m the one who’s gotta walk her down the aisle wearing a banana costume or whatever rebel bullshit she decides to pull on her wedding day, Marie.”

Jess nearly falls over laughing at that, and Carol grabs her along with their outfits. “We’re gonna go get changed.”

Her mother calls to them as they rush up the steps, “Pictures as soon as Anthony arrives.”

Carol slams the door shut on her room and spins on Jess. “I cannot believe you didn’t keep that gaudy thing hidden until we got up here.”

“Hey, the look on your face in front of your family was totally worth it. And besides, tell me you’re not a little bit excited about showing up to prom in  _ that _ .”

Carol glances at it again, and there’s a certain charm to it, she admits to herself. It’s going to cause a stir, for sure.

“Okay, fine. How long ‘til Tony gets here?”

“Two hours. Which should be enough for makeup, hair, and to figure out how to get you into that suit.”

“I almost wish it was a masquerade prom,” Carol says. “Or a murder mystery or something. I’d show up to that shit any day.”

“Detective Frenchy, reporting for duty.”

They strip down to comfortable clothes while Jess fixes Carol’s hair and then helps her put makeup on. Without the clothing, she thinks she might be a clown, but Jess applies it with precision and deftness, then works on herself.

Jess boots Carol out of her own bedroom. “Ok, now go change in the bathroom and I’ll finish up in here.”

“Not gonna drop trou in front of me?” Carol teases, already grabbing the suit.

“Hey, this is our prom night, and part of the fun is in the reveal.”

“Oh my God, I am not doing the stair walk thing, like some shitty Hughes movie.”

“Hey! Those movies are great. Tell me you don’t get tingles over Ally Sheedy’s mussed up mop of hair in Breakfast Club.”

“I--” She turns away with her suit, covering her blush. “I liked Molly Ringwald.” She darts out of the room as Jess jeers at her, “Hot for prep!”

Carol closes the door to the bathroom, an embarrassed smile on her face. She catches her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and the woman staring back at her looks happy. Mature. There’s so much going on in her life--some of it life or death--but tonight, she’s going to prom with her girlfriend, and nothing is going to sour that.

She gets dressed, and everything fits extremely well despite the strange cut of it all. The pinstripe gold-and-tan trousers sit much higher on her hips, creating the illusion of longer legs and shorter torso. The boots they found for her are smart, shiny, and heeled, giving her another couple of inches. She has a hard time believing they are a man’s boot, but whatever, they’re kinda cool.

A brocaded shirt with intricate floral patterns in a variety of colors gets covered by a fancy beige waistcoat with what she would call a severely plunging neckline. A bowtie that matches the waistcoat is next, but she has no idea how to tie a bowtie, so she lets it hang. Over it all comes the blue jacket, and once she slips it on and gets a look at herself, her first instinct is to laugh herself out of the room. She’d rather wear a dress than this buffoonery!

Then she strikes a bit of a pose, one hand in a pocket of the jacket, and puts the top hat on, cocking it at a little bit of a jaunty angle, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so absurd anymore. Now it seems criminal that masculine figures don’t dress like this to this day, instead of the plain black and white tuxedos that have become standard.

She looks  _ good _ in this. The pants are tight in all the right places, but flexible for movement, and the waistcoat bulges out from her chest in just the right way to create shadowed impressions of her breasts in the plunging neckline. It’s not specifically  _ masculine _ , she decides, but it’s something different. It’s attractive and dapper. It’s definitely more her than the tuxedo, and the tux was just a stopgap on her way to discovering this marvelous throwback.

And there is no way she’s walking into the prom like this without drawing every eye in the place. Scandalous and absurd.

And just right.

She opens the door and calls downstairs, “I need someone who knows how to tie a bowtie!”

“I got it!” her brother yells, bounding up the steps and approaching the bathroom. “Open up, goober, I gotta see this.”

“Just get in here, Steve.” She lets him in, and he takes her in. 

“I gotta say, I was expecting you to look kinda like a clown, but you don’t. You look like you just stepped out of, like, Sleeping Beauty, or something.”

“Thanks, but I just need you to help with this thing. Wait, do you actually know how this works?”

“Gimme. Of course I know. You remember my James Bond phase.”

Oh, God. “Yes. Yes, I do.” He was so adorable in his little tuxedo, carrying around a martini glass full of Hawaiian Punch.

“Carol?” he asks as he gets the collar lifted on her shirt and tucks the loop down under it, then begins the complicated knot. “Can I ask you a kind of personal question?”

“If you’re about to ask me about the birds and the bees, I am not about to have that chat with you, and Dad should have had it years ago.”

“No, gross. It’s about something else. Do you--I don’t know, it’s stupid.” He finishes tying the bowtie, and she examines it, nodding.

“Spit it out, little brother. I have extra authority right now because of this get-up.”

“Have you noticed anything… weird, about your body?”

Oh. Oh, shit. “Weird, like hair in places you aren’t expecting?”

“It’s not a puberty thing!” he hisses. “At least I don’t think it is. You’re like a badass at school, and you do this intern thing and can run for days. I’m asking if you think it’s weird you’re so… athletic.”

“You’re asking if it’s weird that  _ you _ are.”

“Yeah.” Steve runs a hand through his hair nervously. “I don’t do any major exercising, or lifting weights. But I can hit a home run all day long, and run the bases faster than anyone on the team.”

“Blessed with good genes, I guess.”

“Yeah, right. From Dad? He of the bald spot and the beer gut?”

“Maybe it comes from Mom.” She hates herself evading like this. “Listen, I think I know where you’re going with this. You’re not a mutant.”

His eyes widen. “No?”

“When I get home tonight, we should probably sit down with Mom and have a chat. But no, it’s not a mutant thing.”

He sighs. “Well, I’m definitely not gonna be able to sleep tonight with  _ that _ in the back of my head.” He smiles, though. “Not a mutant?”

“Definitely not.”

“Cool, I guess.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. Mutants are still people.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what the Civics teacher keeps saying.”

“That’s what your big sister is saying, you little dweeb. Mutants are people, and they’re not freaks. I don’t ever want to hear about you picking on them, you got it? I can still kick your ass if need be.”

“You wish.” But he shakes his head. “But yeah, I got it. Mutants are people.”

“Not freaks.”

“Not freaks.”

“Now get out of here so I can finish touching up. Thanks for the James Bond routine”

“Anytime, Sis.”

She shoves him back out of the bathroom. That’s going to be a fun chat. She’s known it was coming for a while, but they had a plan to do it over the summer, not tonight. She goes to work touching up her makeup, which she’s not very good at.

Jess is stunning. The black hair of the wig has been curled, which means that it might actually be real hair, and it’s so close to the real Jessica, the one Carol is used to, that her heart swells at the sight. Carol refused to be the one to do the stairwell reveal, but she agreed to escort Jess down the steps when Tony arrived.

Jess is wearing a ballgown with a tight corset, a slightly lighter shade of blue than Carol’s jacket, with a subtle spider-web pattern in the stitching that Carol can’t believe she committed to. Her shoulders are bare and her cleavage is well-covered, but she has a wrap that sits on her shoulders like a stole. She’s got long white gloves that extend up to her elbows. Where Carol looks ridiculous and like a prince out of a fairy tale, Jess could be a princess out of any Disney story, and Carol suspects this is exactly what Jess and Tony settled on.

Carol escorts Jess down the steps after they meet at the top, and just stare for a minute, taking each other in. 

“Are we doing this?” Carol asks.

“It’s gonna be an interesting night. I don’t know what it is about this waistcoat, but it’s really doing it for me,” Jess whispers.

Carol chuckles and fights a blush. She holds out her arm. 

Jess puts her hand on it gently, allowing her to be led down the steps. They’re not a grand staircase, so Carol has to hang back and let Jess precede her down the steps. She takes the heat off the moment, and pictures snap as she goes down. Tony smiles at both of them, and he’s also not wearing a traditional black tux, instead opting for something shiny and red, with a gold shirt under it. It’s gaudy, and doesn’t match with either girl, but it’s somehow perfectly Tony.

“Ladies, you look amazing,” he says, offering them both a corsage. More pictures snap as Jess gets to the bottom of the steps and Carol is left on the landing. Her father is out back, but her mother is taking pictures, and making little noises of approval for her rebellious daughter.

Carol leans into her mother as she passes by, and whispers, “Better call Lawson, conversation’s happening tonight.” Marie Danvers’ face twists up in shock, but she recovers and nods, and adopts her adoration face again.

She says, “Group pictures, now. Anthony, you and Carol first.”

Carol lets her mother direct the pictures. This is more for her than it is for Carol at this point. But her mother makes sure to get several shots of Carol and Jess in similar poses he has Tony and Carol get in. They’ll be glad of those pictures, someday. Probably. 

As Tony escorts both girls outside, there is, of course, a limo waiting. “Couldn’t ask you to crawl into the Boss with these outfits. We go to the prom in Stark style.”

“Tony Starch, you’re our hero,” Jess says, giggling. 

“Did you say--”

“You probably heard it wrong,” Carol interrupts. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

They do. 

The venue in Boston is something crazy. It’s a ballroom in a downtown hotel, and apparently this was an upgrade due to the scheduling conflict that delayed their prom. There’s a table where tickets are being taken, and money is handed off for people who couldn’t be bothered to buy tickets early. Good thing for all three of them. Carol whistles appreciatively at the room as they enter, and then laughs.

“What’s funny?” Tony asks, escorting Jess behind them.

Carol points up at the streamers and banners, the balloons. It’s all very “high school prom” and this ballroom calls for “Met Gala”. “I mean, what  _ isn’t _ funny about this?”

“Oh my God, what are you wearing!?” comes a voice off to the side. Kelly comes shuffling up in a very pretty purple dress, with her black hair piled high in artful waves, kept in place with pins.

“Hey, KK. You look great.”

“SO do you!” she exclaims, taking in the ridiculous suit. “Miller’s gonna lose it when he sees you. He’s been going around citing dress code violations for every--” Her voice dies in her throat with a kind of strangled gargle, and her eyes are on someone behind Carol. “Jess?”

“Surprise! I’m alive?” Jess shrugs her shoulders and Carol nearly laughs out loud. Oh this night is going to be ridiculous from start to finish.

Kelly swallows, composing herself. “You--I--oh gosh, you look so good!” She throws her arms around Jess, and Jess accepts the hug with good grace. “Everyone’s gonna flip! I’ve gotta go tell them you’re here.”

She darts off, at her shuffling pace in heels and that dress, and Tony scoffs. “She didn’t even notice me.”

“A billionaire she’s crushing on is clearly the least important part of what just happened,” Jess says. She takes a big breath, centering herself. “Okay, let’s get inside and get this part over with.”

Tony pays for their last minute prom tickets, and everyone appropriately flips out when word starts spreading that Jessica Drew is back from the dead. Several people legitimately thought she was dead, and were confused because they swore they went to a memorial service for her.

Others are excited because she’s back, healthy, and as friendly as can be. And then there’s a few who scoff at her for unknown reasons, but Carol thinks might just be jealousy. Amidst all this flurry of excitement, Vice Principal Miller approaches the gaggle of students currently surrounding Jess, who has been telling six different versions of her road to recovery, none of which are remotely true. Carol and Tony stand off to the side, letting Jess take care of things, and Miller clears his throat at Carol.

“Miss Danvers, a word.” Not a request. Carol shrugs at Tony and waves to Jess that she’ll be right back. She follows Vice Principal Miller, taking delight that her top hat and heeled boots make her taller than him right now. They step away from the ballroom, to a small alcove that affords a little bit of privacy.

“What’s up, Mr. Miller?” Carol asks. School is out and the worst he can do to her at this point is kick her out of prom, so her attitude is ratcheted up just a bit.

Miller says, “First, I’m glad your friend came back. I want to make that very clear.”

“My friend…”

“Jessica something. It’s been a year, don’t be smart. Me knowing student names is either a good or bad thing, Miss Danvers.”

“Uh huh. Jessica Drew.”

“Sure. Look, she’s back, which means she’s okay? Not, like, contagious or anything?”

“God you’re a--” She stops herself. “No, Mr. Miller, she’s not contagious. Full recovery.”

“Good. Now we should talk about your attire.”

“Let me stop you right there, Mills.” Carol is not in the mood.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“If you’re going to tell me that I’m not allowed to wear a suit because I’m a girl, I will straight up take my pants off in front of everyone. The dress code doesn’t specify gender, and you know this, so you can save me the speeches, ‘cause I’m just here to have a good time with my date.”

His eyes bulge and he glances out of the alcove to make sure no one’s near enough to hear. “First of all, please do not do that. Second, I was going to compliment you on the suit.”

Shit. “Oh.” She doesn’t know how to handle that. 

He smiles at catching her shitty attitude out. “Look, this is a special night for everyone, and I would like it very much if there were no shenanigans. Can you promise me that?”

“I am absolutely not planning any shenanigans, Mr. Miller. This outfit wasn’t even my idea.”

He sighs with relief. “That wasn’t a promise, but I’m glad to hear you’re not planning to stage a coup or something.” 

Carol catches a commotion at the entrance to the ballroom, and kind of wishes she hadn’t just told Mr. Miller she wasn’t planning anything. She excuses herself, and goes to gather up Tony and Jess, who up until Hank McCoy walked into the ballroom with his date, were the center of attention, the most exciting thing to happen yet.

Hank McCoy is wearing his tux from last year’s bucket list dinner, and on his arm is Clarice, AKA Blink, wearing a stark white dress with silver hems that looks like it came straight from Emma Frost’s closet. Is that a god damned boob window? 

Clarice is a very visible mutant, which means this was a very planned moment. People all around whisper, and Jess is clearly forgotten in the excitement. The scandal.

“I don’t know how this is gonna play out, but just so you two know, I’m gonna have Hank’s back unless he does something stupid like hurting people.”

“Is that the mutant we see at the ice cream shop, sometimes?” Tony asks, interest piqued but not grossed out or anything, which is good. They haven’t really talked about this with him, but as far as Carol knows, Hank hasn’t told Tony about his being a mutant.

Clarice bears the looks and the whispers well. She’d have to, given that she can’t easily pass for non-mutant without the right circumstances. Her pinkish skin tone and the markings on her face, not to mention her eyes, are dead giveaways that she’s not strictly a regular human.

Jess nods at Carol, though. “We have his back, no worries.”

“Are you expecting something to happen?” Tony asks.

“You’ve seen the anti-mutant stuff on TV, man. Are you gonna sit here and act like a bunch of teens are gonna be cool? I know you’ve been beyond your teens for like five minutes, but you can’t have forgotten just how mean we can be for no reason beyond peer pressure.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Tony says. “It looks like the adults are converging on the situation as we speak.”

Carol follows his gaze and catches Vice Principal Miler, who so recently surprised her by not being terrible, beelining for the commotion.

“Could go either way,” Carol says, “but we should get closer, just in case.”

They all nod, and follow Miller over.

As they approach, Jess whispers, “He’s kicking them out for dress code violations.”

“The prick,” Carol mutters, thinking she was right to be mad about Miller abusing rules. They get within regular hearing distance, and Hank is unusually angry. 

“If you were that concerned over ‘violations’ of the dress code, Mr. Miller, wouldn’t you have kicked out Tammy? Her dress is practically see-through.” The girl he points out blushes and shrinks back into the crowd, wanting to watch but not be part of it. 

Mr. Miller stammers, “Her outfit is acceptable, if a little excessive. The dress code is clear on your date’s… cleavage violation.” He’s clearly uncomfortable talking about a teen girl’s chest, which Carol supposes is a good thing.

“Pardon me,” Hank counters, “but from where I stand, I can see six other attendees violating this rule. Including Jessica Drew. It’s good to see your resurrection, Jessica.” He smiles at her, and Jess beams.

She says, “I’m just so happy to be alive… I didn’t realize my boobs were a problem.” The crowd chuckles and some anonymous shouts are made in her defense, and also just about how her boobs are definitely not a problem. A spike of jealousy thrills through Carol, but now’s not the time.

“They’re not--that’s not what I--” Mr. Miller is losing control of the narrative. Carol feels slightly bad about this despite the fact that he’s being an asshole about a mutant. He’s technically in the right.

But it’s not the rule, it’s the excuse he’s using it as.

Clarice interrupts, “I think what Hank is trying to say, is that you’re enforcing a rule on me in particular, and it’s not because I’m breaking the rule, as so many other girls are. It’s because I’m a mutant and you’re a bigot.” She’s playing a part, and she’s playing it well, but Carol thinks maybe the girl is upset about it for real, too. 

“I resent your implication,” Mr. Miller starts, but Hank interrupts, “I don’t believe that was an implication. She was rather explicit.”

“Your… genetics have nothing to do with it, young lady. Your violation is particularly egregious, and I am going to have to ask you to leave. You’re upsetting a positive night for the actual students of this event. Henry, I can understand a stunt like this from someone else, but you? You’re the model student.”

Hank takes a deep breath, and Carol thinks this is the moment. He says, “A model student can also believe in making a point, Mr. Miller. A model student can also be a mutant.”

“No damn way,” Tony whispers in the silence that follows, but he’s grinning. Tony enjoys a spectacle if nothing else. Mr. Miller’s mouth is agape, and he clearly has no idea how to move forward.

“Hey, positive vibes,” Carol whispers. “I think he’s gonna keep trying.” Mr. Miller finally composes himself. Carol gives him some credit; most faculty would have buckled already. 

He asks, “Are you admitting that you are, in fact, a mutant, Mr. McCoy?” 

“Is that against the rules?” he asks. “You don’t need to answer that, I know it’s not. I am, indeed, a mutant. I may not show it, like Clarice, but I am every bit the same as her. And if you’ll indulge me, the same as everyone else here. We’re all people.”

Mr. Miller straightens his suit jacket and clears his throat. “You may not be breaking any rules by being a mutant, or bringing one as your date, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re breaking another rule you must have forgotten about, in your haste to ‘make a point’.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Hank says, and smiles. It’s a mean smile, a “gotcha” smile. It makes Carol nervous, but it really takes Miller aback. It’s like a housecat revealing it’s actually a lion.

Hank continues, “You’re going to tell me that I’m interrupting the peace, and making a political statement out of a private event run by the school. Does that about sum it up?”

Miller tries to recover from this, but he’s lost his advantage and knows it. “Well--yes. I now need you and your date--”

“Clarice,” she says helpfully.

“You and Clarice are not welcome here because you tried to turn this into a civil rights rally.”

“I did nothing of the sort, Vice Principal MIller,” Hank says. “I just desired to introduce my date to my friends here at school. Was it not you who cited false violations trying to have her removed, which in turn caused me to defend her?”

“Regardless how we got there, Mr. McCoy, you’re in violation, and it would be better for everyone if you and Clarice left.”

Carol is about to say something rebellious and rush in to their defense, but someone actually beats her to it.

Kelly rushes forward, breathless and eyes wide. “If you’re kicking out the mutants, might as well make sure you get all of us.”

Carol gasps with everyone else. Kelly’s clique of preppy girl friends start whispering furiously to each other. But after a moment’s consideration, Carol realizes it makes sense. She works at the ice cream shop, even before Carol started. Emma gathers mutants to her. Carol is the outlier in that equation.

Mr. Miller says, “Miss Kooliq, you should not be attempting to join this particular bandwagon as some kind of show of solidarity.”

“It’s not a show of whatever,” Kelly says, “I’m a mutant. Same as Hank, same as Clarice.”

“I, uh, did not see this coming,” Jess whispers.

Neither did Carol, but she should have. She goes to step forward to add her voice as an ally, to stop Miller from going through with this foolishness, but someone  _ else _ beats her to that one.

“Hey, I realize I don’t go here anymore, but this is messed up, right?” Johnny Storm says, going to stand beside Kelly, Hank, and Clarice. “They’re still just… people, right?” Several of Johnny’s old jock friends, and one of the nerdy kids he made amends with, also come to stand beside the group. Look at Johnny Storm, doing the right thing. All but one of Kelly’s other friends come forward, too, embracing her. Kelly smiles amid tears of relieved joy.

Jess grabs Tony and Carol’s hands and yanks them all forward. “Damn right,” she says. “If you’re going to kick them out on the flimsiest of reasons, you’re gonna have to kick us all out.” The chorus of the growing crowd yells, “Yeah!” at Mr. Miller, and he does his best not to recoil under this much larger front.

Carol’s grin at Jess in that moment says everything in her heart. Tony mugs for the benefit of everyone who knows he’s the son of a billionaire, but the Vice Principal doesn’t seem to know it.

“So much for no shenanigans,” Carol says, and Miller gives her a deadpan stare as he calculates what he might be able to do next. 

Hank says, “I believe the phrase we’re looking for is, ‘Your Move, Mr. Miller’.” Hank smiles, and Clarice crosses her arms in front of her chest defiantly. Somewhere a flash from a camera goes off, and that settles Mr. Miller.

He holds his hands up. “Enjoy the prom, but if any of you cause any problems, I’ll suffer any bad press you think you can throw at me. The safety of these students is my only concern.”

“We’re just here to dance and drink spiked punch,” Clarice says. The crowd chuckles with her, and Miller’s eyes go wide as he darts off to check the punch bowl.

Those in the gathered circle make a show of congratulating them, calling out cheers and hell yeahs. Carol notes that not many who didn’t join the active protest come forward to actually talk to them.

Baby steps, though. 

When the noise dies down, Kelly throws her arms around her friends, the ones who came forward for her. “Oh my God that was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

“We had no idea!” one of them says.

“And it doesn’t matter!” another declares. Carol is happy for her, but she does note that one of her friends, the one who didn’t come out for her, has disappeared from the surrounding crowd.

Carol turns to Hank and Clarice after the crowd starts to disperse and go back to the actual prom part of prom. Dancing and music and chatting. “I wish I’d known you were gonna do this.”

“It was something of a last minute plan,” he says, almost running a hand through his styled hair before thinking better of it. “We were talking about normal social events that the kids at group miss out on due to their struggles with family and community, and Clarice made a face when we talked about prom.”

“Aww, Hank,” Jess says, “did you get all mushy and recite poetry to her when you asked?”

He hides a flush. “I might have borrowed a phrase or two from the Bard.”

Tony says, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Hank shakes his head. “You know that feeling you get when you’re putting off something important, and the longer you put it off, the more unnerving it is? And how it starts to become a living force all its own, where it’s no longer about the original thing, but the putting off of it?”

Carol says, “I think we can all relate, Hank.”

“Yes, well, that’s what it was like, Tony. My apologies. I’m grateful you took it well.”

They do that bro hug, where they lock fists and pull each other in for an awkward embrace. 

Clarice clears her throat. “Sorry we made a big scene of your prom.”

Johnny Storm, who has been nearby but not part of the discussion, butts in with a laugh. “Are you kidding? You just made this legendary for everyone. You’ll be talking about this at your 40th class reunion. The time Dr. McCoy and the pink chick--sorry… Clarice--made Mr. Miller look like a buffoon.”

Hank smiles at the subtle praise, and Carol socks Johnny in the arm, playfully. “I didn’t even realize you were here, you big jerk.”

“Hey, why wouldn’t I go to prom when I’m in town? And damn am I glad I did. Nice tophat.”

Carol grins. “I have it on good authority that it was Jess’s idea.”

“You look ridiculous, but in a good way?” He shakes his head, laughing. “This was great. Can we get Miller to like, really lose his shit?”

Carol and Jess glance at each other, but Johnny doesn’t notice it. “This was an exciting moment, but I think I need to get my dance on,” Jess says, dragging Carol away.

Carol catches Tony and pulls him along, calling that she’ll catch up with the others later.

“Well, that was intense,” Carol says finally as they get a drink and find a table for a minute before the dancing begins. The DJ is almost finished setting up.

“Did you two know about Hank?” Tony asks. 

Carol nods. “Um. He kinda saved me from getting my ass kicked by Johnny Storm a while back. It was a whole thing.”

Jess says nothing, only sips her punch and waves at some other old acquaintance.

“I wonder what he can do…” Tony says, trailing off in thought. 

Carol says, “Hey, that’s not a thing you’re allowed to do.” While Jess caches up briefly with the old friend, Carol slips her hand into Jess’s under the table. 

“I can’t help what my brain does,” he says, shrugging. “But I guess I get it. No poking and prodding. Don’t treat them like a science project.”

“Exactly. Still people, and they deserve their privacy.”

Tony nods, but Carol isn’t sure she entirely believes his sincerity. It’s true that mutants have caused a lot of harm, both on purpose and on accident. Not knowing how their powers worked or how to control them. But they need some degree of safety and privacy, don’t they? To exist as any regular human exists? 

Jess says goodbye to her old friend and squeezes Carol’s hand. “Are we gonna sit here and talk about the ethics of mutantkind, or are we gonna go dance?”

“Do you particularly need me for this part?” Tony asks.

“Tired of being my camo already?” Carol asks.

Jess takes Carol’s top hat and plants it on her head, and Carol has a moment to wonder what Jess would look like in the full getup. The dress is nice, but Jess has the hips for this outfit where Carol really doesn’t. “Are you worried people will talk if we go dance together, even for slow dances?”

Carol shrugs. “I guess not. I’ve told basically everyone at this point. Everyone that matters.” She realizes that Kelly doesn’t know yet, but Kelly also point-blank asked her once upon a time, and Carol thinks she might suspect it, anyway. Kelly Kooliq, the mutant. 

Johnny Storm definitely doesn’t matter.

“I’ll come dance when there’s a fun song, but now I’m stag at a prom. This didn’t even happen at  _ my _ prom.”

“Did you even have a regular prom?” Jess asks, standing and pulling Carol up with her.

“I mean, it wasn’t called a prom, I suppose. But same difference.”

Carol asks, “Whose yacht was it on?”

“Some Roxxon executive.” He chuckles while Carol and Jess groan.

“There’s some girls who are stag,” Carol says, nodding towards the single ladies table. It’s across the room from the single guys table, and Carol feels suddenly bad for them all. Given the pressure to have a date, to be happy, and to go to prom because you’ll remember it your whole life… If you buy into the facade, it hurts when you can’t measure up.

“Go make one of them starstruck,” Jess says. “Be nice, be polite, be romantic.”

“I’m two of those things without trying,” he says, grinning. “I’ll catch you ladies later, yeah?”

They wave him off, but he hesitates for just a moment. “Listen…”

“What now?” Carol asks, but his expression has changed from fun to serious.

“Well, you probably saw the guys in the crowd who didn’t react so hot to the whole ra-ra mutant thing, right?”

“There were a few, yeah. Why?”

“Well, just keep an eye on Kelly, and Hank, and Clarice, yeah? They shouldn’t go off alone tonight. That’s when bad things happen.”

Jess nods, impatient. “Good point. We’ll get them on the dance floor.”

She pulls Carol away now, and they dance to music that has a good beat, but sounds awful to Carol. After the first couple of songs, they jump around and have a good time, working up a healthy burn and light sweat, acting ridiculous and dancing with random boys and girls on the dance floor. Jess keeps losing control of the top hat as she bounces around, and once or twice nearly loses her wig, too. She disappears from the crowd, saying she’s going to find a permanent fix, and Carol loses her appetite for dancing without her Jess.

Tony shows up with two girls from the stag table, plus a guy from that stag table, and the four of them bounce around and have fun while Carol wonders where Jess is. Multiple songs pass without her, and Carol starts taking stock of her surroundings, thinking something might be wrong.

Hank and Clarice sit at a table surrounded by people, talking to them about who knows what. They both appear to be safe and fine, though. Clarice excuses herself when she spots Carol looking their way, and joins the dance floor. Johnny sits down with Hank now, and Carol thinks that’s okay.

A notable pocket surrounds their group now, and they hop around, dance and have a good time. Clarice grabs Carol and spins her like a top, until she’s almost dizzy. Kelly’s friends hit the dance floor without her, and as another song ends, Carol can’t see Kelly anywhere. Then something different comes up over the speakers.

Something not exactly danceable. Something for Carol.

Nine Inch Nails. 

Carol’s eyes dart to the DJ booth in the corner of the room, and standing near the table, microphone in hand, is Jessica Drew, hat cocked jauntily on her head, face radiant as she stares back at Carol.

How she convinced the DJ to play Nine Inch Nails at a prom is of no concern. She managed it, and she cocks an eyebrow at Carol suggestively. 

Oh God. What’s she doing? 

As the instrumental intro begins, and everyone looks around confused at the sudden tempo change--not fast, but not a slow dance number--Jess taps the microphone, which causes a burst of bass. BOP, BOP, BOP.

She says, “Hey, everyone, brief announcement. Jessica Drew here, who you all thought was dead. I just want to thank you all for your kind words tonight. The DJ was very nice to let me request a song and say a brief word.” She smiles over the dancers and the people chatting over drinks and snacks, the faculty and chaperones converging on her. Carol doesn’t know what she’s doing, or how she got control of the microphone, but it’s not the time to come out to the entire school. Not after the mutants already did their thing. 

Jess says, “I have just one thing I want to say before they kick me off here. I’ve been sick my whole life. When I was gone, and so sick I could hardly keep my eyes open, there was always one person in my heart that kept me going. Who loves me with her whole heart, always has, and who I am so sorry to have left for so long. She never lost faith in me, and I like to think that found me out there. Kept me going when my body wanted to stop. Brought me back when it finally did. You were the best friend a silly girl could hope for, and I’m so glad we’re part of each other’s lives. Thank you, Carol Danvers, for always being there for me.”

She hands the microphone back to the DJ just as Miller and several chaperones converge, escorting her away from the table, complaining that the DJ allowed her to do that. There is scattered applause and a few cheers as Carol’s face lights up red as a tomato, but Jess never gave it away. She said “you were the best friend” which is enough for those who understand the deeper implication, but not explicit enough for anyone to read into it beyond friends.

Around Carol, she can hear whispers of her name, small admirations or wonders that she’s worthy of such admiration. They can all suck it, she thinks. Jessica pulls her off the dance floor, then, and they go looking for a restroom for some privacy.

“I could kill you, Drawed,” Carol says breathlessly as they exit the noise and bluster of the ballroom. In the main atrium of this fancy hotel, it’s a little cooler, and Carol fans herself.

“I knew better than to steal Hank’s thunder, Care Bear.” Jess grins mischievously, though. She knew what she was doing.

“How did you even manage to get that song and that microphone?”

“A little pheromone power. I’m kinda getting the hang of it.”

“How’s that?” Carol asks as they spot the restrooms and head over, amid a crowd of tourists on their way out for a night on the town. 

Jess whispers, “If I want fear, I think of--” She hesitates as the crowd is too close, “--the skull guy.”

“And if you want the charm?” Carol asks, hoping it’s her.

Jess smiles with that impish grin. “I think of Tony Starch.”

They laugh at this as they tumble through the restroom, and find Kelly inside, sitting in the corner of this very nice bathroom, tears streaking her mascara. No one else appears to be around.

Immediately their good humor is gone, and Carol rushes forward to the girl. “Hey, are you okay? What happened?”

Kelly sniffles, waving a hand and drying her tears with a cloth towel, ruining it with her mascara. “Hey, guys,” she says, trying to play it off. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. Just silly girl drama.”

Oh no. “Did your friend say something?” Carol asks, taking a seat next to her. This is what she had been afraid of earlier, and she wished she had followed her own advice. She berates herself for even noting Kelly’s absence and then forgetting about it.

Kelly shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

Even now she has trouble admitting it. Her friend must have really done a number.

“We shouldn’t have let you go off by yourself,” Jess says. “It’s my fault, I distracted everyone with that big speech about Carol.”

“You made a speech?” Kelly asks, tears forming again. “And I missed it?”

“It wasn’t anything important,” Carol says, eyeing Jess in a way that hopefully got across that it was everything and she is just trying to soothe this poor girl.

Kelly smiles and sniffles. “I bet it was all sweet and romantic.”

Carol stiffens. “Uh…” is all she manages, and Kelly looks confused between the two of them.

“Are you not… like a couple?”

Carol sighs, closing her eyes. She swallows heavily and nods. “I guess we are. Since you’re more perceptive than I give you credit for, which I’m sorry about, I guess I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you before this.”

“It’s okay! It’s not like we’re super close, and I didn’t tell anyone I was a m--mutant. These things are hard, when people can cancel you from their life just for being a certain way.”

She’s not wrong about that. “Seriously, are you okay?” Jess stands at the door now, holding it shut in case anyone else tries to come in.

“Yeah, it’s just… I guess I was ready to get a bunch of hate, and when it didn’t happen immediately, I dropped my guard. Emma told me that I shouldn’t admit to being different unless I was 100% sure I could trust them. She even warned me against you.”

“Emma’s a bitch, but she’s not wrong,” Carol says. She awkwardly reaches out a hand to Kelly and squeezes it, then pulls her into a hug while they sit on the floor next to each other. “We’re not mutants, but I think we can say we know what it’s like to be different. To fear the truth getting out.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. And I’m really fortunate! I don’t really have any visible signs, not like Clarice.”

“Hey,” Carol says, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better friend. You’ve always been so nice, and I never really let you in. That’s not your fault. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

She shakes her head again. “Not really? I might talk to Hank and Clarice about it. She’s super cool, isn’t she? Just goes around flaunting her mutanthood.”

Carol chuckles. “She’s a bit of a badass.”

“I’m sorry I messed up your night. This should have been nothing but happy, with Jess back and everything.”

“It’s fine. It’s like Johnny Storm said. We’re gonna be talking about this for years. You’re a legend now, and if your friend or anyone else gives you shit about being different, I’ll shove a stop sign down their throat.”

Kelly snorts laughter and wipes her nose. Her tears have stopped. “Thanks for being here, checking on me. You’ve been a great friend tonight.”

Jess nods from the door, and then has to press back on it to hold it shut. “Occupied!” she calls. “Vomit everywhere! It’s The Exorcist up in here!” She mimics barfing sounds and whoever’s on the other side makes a disgusted noise before going elsewhere.

Carol helps Kelly up, and together the three of them fix Kelly’s makeup and get back out there. Defiant. Together. 

They have a great rest of the evening, dancing until the DJ finally shuts the strobe lights off and shakes his head at them all. They even got Hank on the dance floor for a while, and despite his grace in a fight, he is a stumbling mess with Clarice. They’re cute together, and though Carol isn’t sure they’re an actual couple, they at least seem to enjoy each other’s company.

Carol feels a little sad that she never got to slow dance with Jess, but it was always a little too public. Jessica runs over now that the majority of the student body has gone, and works her magic on the DJ again. He shakes his head, then flips the strobe lights back on, and plays some cheesy love song. Bon Jovi, she thinks.

“One more dance,” the DJ says, “for a special someone.”

Carol stares around self-consciously, but there really aren’t many people around now. But even one is going to spread the news if they’re seen together. Maybe this is the right way to do it.

Jess approaches Carol, in her ballgown and top hat, looking like something out of a fairy tale. A weird fairy tale. The best kind. The lights on the dance floor lower, and Carol steps up to Jess, takes her hands and pulls her in.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” Carol whispers. With Jess’s heels, she’s able to wrap her arms around Carol’s neck without straining, and Carol holds her by the waist, swaying to the silly love ballad. It’s not a proper slow dance song, but then, nothing about them is proper, is it?

Jess grins, settling her cheek on Carol’s shoulder. The top hat finally falls off, and she lets it go. “Stupid thing.”

“You looked good in it. You should wear the waistcoat next time.”

“Maybe I will. You gonna put on a mini skirt and shake your booty for me?”

“Ugh. Yes.” She’s surprised she says it, and means it.

“Really?”

Other couples join the dance floor. Hank and Clarice. Johnny and one of Kelly’s friends. Tony and Kelly. A few other stragglers, supporters of the whole mutant thing. Such a strange and motley crew they’ve surrounded themselves with. Such a perfect microcosm of weird.

“Yes, really,” she says. “I don’t hate the idea of a dress nearly as much as I thought I did. As much as I did before I knew that stuff didn’t matter. I’ll put on a pumpkin costume if it means we can do this whenever we want.” Carol lifts Jess’s face with a gentle hand, kisses her cheek and then smiles. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jess asks, glancing around. Everyone is absorbed in their own dance, in their own lives at this moment. And she trusts them. Well, most of them.

Carol nods. “We have so many secrets. Don’t you want to have one less to keep track of?”

In answer, Jess smiles and pulls closer to Carol, locking lips. Someone catcalls. Someone else gasps. She’s pretty sure she hears Vice Principal Miller yell out something about inappropriate behavior. It’s all just noise. Static. 

Unimportant. They have so many secrets, and it feels so good to let this one go. To enjoy each other in public. To be accepted for who they are, and accept others for the same.

To love each other, in this bright spot in the ocean of darkness that surrounds them.

Carol and Jess dance until the song finally comes to a close, eyes locked to each other. There’s so much bad going on, but they’ve got each other. They’ll always be there for each other. And that’s all that truly matters. 

They can get through anything, so long as they’re together. They can weather any storm, defeat any enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a quick updating note: There probably won't be a new chapter for this story in two weeks. Life stuff, and I do not think I will be able to get it written by then. Normal posting schedule should resume two weeks after that, or around July 20th. Sorry for the inconvenience!


	14. Sometimes, There's Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol works at Ice Dream, Inc. and gets confronted about a secret.

Carol scoops ice cream like it owes her money, carving deep rents in the cylinders of frozen goodness, splattering multi-colored debris all over the place. There are no longer slow days at Ice Dream, Inc., in the midst of early summer: only lulls in the action. And no matter how many times Carol has tried to talk to Emma Frost about the shit she’s pulling with Jess, framing her for break-ins around the city, Carol has failed to find her or anyone else who matters. Even the Devil’s Plaything rec center has been quiet and absent any authority aside from Hank.

And Hank has been no help. Everything about his stance on Emma and the Hellions frustrates her, but he’s stubbornly refusing to set up a meeting.

At least the talk with her brother went well. As well as could be expected, for learning you’re half alien. Steve agreed to be careful and keep it quiet, but he’s always been bad at keeping secrets, and Carol worries now that it won’t take long. That one of his dumb little friends will find out because Steve isn’t careful enough. 

That no one will take it seriously, right up until someone who can do something about it (S.H.I.E.L.D.) does.

Kelly Kooliq smiles at Carol as Carol stands up straight with another cone of rocky road for the younger teens at the counter. Carol forces a smile back at her friend, the not-so-secret mutant. She’s seemed happier in the few days since the prom, since she outed herself as a mutant and faced the fallout.

Not that the fallout wouldn’t keep falling out. These things tended to keep on coming at you.

With the current rush of customers contented with cold soda and colder treats, Carol steps into the back room to clean up a bit and grab supplies to replenish. Kelly follows her, and leans against the wall next to the sink while Carol washes all the way up to her elbows.

Kelly laughs. “You’re not winning any awards for cleanliness today.”

“Yeah, well, just wait ‘til we swap places and you get to sling cream while I smile pretty for the tips.”

“Snarl is more like it,” Kelly teases.

Carol pivots the spray out of the adjustable faucet so that steaming water splashes Kelly all down her apron, and Kelly dances away, shrieking with laughter. 

The brief goofing off is nice, though. It puts Carol in a better frame of mind, distracts her from all that she needs distraction from.

Hank pops his head out of the manager’s office, frowning at the two of them. “If you are both back here, who is at the counter?”

“Chill, Mr. McCoy,” Carol says, glancing out the swinging door as she dries off her hands, wipes her face. “No customers at the counter right now.”

“Still, I would like one of you stationed at all times, if possible. It’s a chaos of middle schoolers out there, and if they go on unsupervised for long enough, something will be broken, stolen, or otherwise.”

Carol sighs as the bell on the door outside dings, indicating someone has come or gone, and Carol begins to nod her head at Hank to let him know she gets it, she’s going. Only before she can go, a loud, angry voice she knows all too well suddenly calls out:

“I’m looking for Carol Danvers!” Her father is exceptionally angry, and she peeks out of the swinging door to see his open palm slap the glass display case at the counter. It’s still early, and he’s in his work coveralls.

Oh God, what’s happened? Which secret did he figure out?

Carol rushes out before he can yell anything else, and his eyes land on her, wide with fury and disbelief. The rest of the shop has gone stone still and silent, watching and waiting.

“Dad, what’s--” She doesn’t finish the question as her father comes around the counter, yanking her by the arm and pulling her to the front door.

Shocked gasps from everywhere, but no one does anything. Carol doesn’t know what’s come out, but she thinks maybe it’s her association with mutants. The phone calls from concerned parents have been constant since prom, and surely her dad has caught wind of some of it.

She allows herself to be yanked outside, as Hank and Kelly come out to calm the customers down. Carol shakes her head at Hank when he eyes her through the shopfront windows. She’s got this. Whatever it is.

“Okay, we’re outside, what the hell, Dad?” She yanks her arm free, and her father loses his grip, almost surprisingly, by the look on his face. People stream by on this hot, humid day. Some go inside for ice cream; some catch the drama about to unfold and avert their eyes as they walk; still others slow up to see what’s about to happen.

Joseph Danvers glares at her, his fingers flexing, as if he can’t decide on a fist or an open palm. He finally settles on a big, gristly finger pointing at her. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, young lady?”

Young lady. He knows she hates it when he says that. Only thing worse is “missy”. All the more reason to say nothing. Can’t give away secrets if she doesn’t open her mouth. So she crosses her arms across her chest and stares back at him.

“You’re going to stand there and pretend like what you are is normal?” Shit, that doesn’t narrow things down as much as she’d like.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she counters.

“Uh huh. You don’t get to play dumb with me, missy.”

“Don’t call me th--”

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well want,” he interrupts her. “This rebellious shit is stopping right now, and that includes this lesbo shit the Vice Principal told me all about.”

Well, fuck. Tears pop into her eyes unbidden. She knew this was coming eventually. No one comes out without at least someone having an issue with it, and she’s been luckier than most. That slimy dirtbag Miller, getting his kicks in wherever he can. 

But this isn’t going to stop her. She’s not about to let her bigot of a father get under her skin. “What do you care, Dad? You told me not four days ago to marry rich if I could.”

“That’s different.”

“Like hell it is. I love Jessica.”

The scowl on her dad’s face cuts deep, but she doesn’t let up. “When she kissed me, it was like--” She struggles for words. “--like being shown sunlight after years in the dark.”

He glances around at the people who have stopped or slowed to listen to this family squabble, then hisses under his breath, “I don’t wanna hear it, Carol.”

She raises her voice. “Then you better plug your God damn ears. I love a girl, Dad--” The slap comes out of nowhere, and with it gasps from the strangers around them. No one interferes, though. It stings, but not as much as the shock it rides in on. Her father has never hit her. Not like this.

The red on her cheek burns, and she wipes the tears away. “You’re a fucking bastard,” she says. The anger wells up inside her, and she’s suddenly afraid what might happen if she lets loose with the full power of her biology on a normal human, on a schlubby man like her father. 

“Let’s go,” he says, a little bit of shame in his eyes at what he’s done. He overrides it, though; she sees it happen. His pride, his anger, are stronger than his guilt.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“We can talk about this at home, after we decide how we’re gonna fix you. This is going to kill your mother, you know it?”

Fix her. The nerve. The God damned nerve. Caution flies away. “You think Mom doesn’t know?” Carol shouts now. “Who do you think set up my date with Tony as a cover to keep it from you?”

His jaw widens into slack surprise, and for a moment Carol regrets dragging her mother into the crosshairs. She can handle it, though. Kree women are strong.

He scoffs at her. “Are you doing this just to hurt me?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Dad. It never does.”

He throws up his hands in frustration. “Next thing you’ll tell me she’s one of those freaks on TV, terrorizing Boston.”

That’s too close to home, and Carol checks her rage. “Not that it matters, you bigot, but no. And they’re not freaks. They’re just people.”

“People can’t blow up a building with their minds, Carol.”

“Some of them can, it turns out.”

He spits on the ground in front of her. “Enough. You wanna be a freak-loving, rug-munching dyke, be my guest.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re welcome to visit, if you ever decide to be normal again.”

“But--”

“Far as I’m concerned, you’re not a Danvers anymore.” That hits home, harder than anything so far. She’s dead to him.

He stalks away, leaving her a pile of jangled nerves and unspent rage. She’s so confused that she doesn’t even know what to say. No witty comebacks. No biting retorts. Nothing.

In a matter of minutes, she became homeless.

The door to the ice cream shop jingles open as Hank steps outside. “Carol, is everyth--”

“I’m fine.” She takes off in the opposite direction while Hank and Kelly whisper to each other. Forget her job, forget her dad, forget everything. She knows who she needs to see.

Only Jess isn’t home. Carol has a key now, but she enters a dark apartment, where the vague scent of her girlfriend only makes the ache for her worse. Off breaking the law for Hydra? Maybe just getting coffee. 

Carol sits on the couch and hugs one of the decorative sofa pillows, foot tapping anxiously. When Jess doesn’t come back immediately, because of course she doesn’t, Carol stands back up, goes to the window, peers around. A very bad idea occurs to her, and she grabs a sheet of paper out of Jess’s notebook. After scribbling on it with marker, she tapes it to the window.

Then stands by the phone, waiting.

It doesn’t take long. In less than a minute, the phone rings. Carol scoops it up and says, “Figured you were watching.”

Taskmaster says, calmly, “Take the image down right now or you will find out just how serious we are about loose ends, Miss Danvers.” 

She scoffs, but doesn’t go back to the window. Being near the window could just be death, if the other one is watching. Bullseye. She shivers at the thought of a man with flawless aim. Instead she sits down at the kitchen table and says, “Where is she?”

“This is not a negotiation. Take the image down now.”

A small red laser sight peeks in through the window, above the crudely-drawn Hydra symbol on the paper. Carol takes the hint and swipes the paper from the glass as quickly as she can. “Happy?”

“With you in the mix, rarely.” The red laser dot disappears from the wall opposite the window, though.

However, he doesn’t hang up immediately. Carol says, more cautiously now, “Will she be back soon?”

“Today’s a milk run, I could have sent you and it would have been fine.”

“Papa Nazi wouldn’t like, though, huh?”

“Do not use words like that on the phone. Your presence is merely tolerated, do you understand?” 

“So long as Jess is useful, blah blah.”

“So long as her usefulness outweighs your encumbrance.”

“You’re so kind.”

“You think I’m making the decisions here? We all report to someone, Danvers.”

That sends chills up her spine. This isn’t some rogue element causing mayhem in her city. This is a covert terrorist organization plotting against the United States, and Carol keeps mocking one of their agents. 

“You should be aware, Carol,” Taskmaster continues, “We know the secrets you keep. The people you protect.”

The secrets she keeps. Carol swallows the lump in her throat. “You don’t know the half of it, Tasky.” She hopes he doesn’t, anyway.

“The freakish element in this city can’t stay hidden forever. Especially not with them all declaring themselves at your dance.”

Good. He knows about the mutants, but not her heritage. Not about the Kree blood coursing through her veins.

“They have nothing to do with any of this.”

“Sure they do. The moment you interfered in my business, I learned how to interfere in yours.”

She is pretty sure his definition of “interfere” is not the same as hers.

“Look, this has been a wonderful conversation, Billy.”

“That is not my name.”

“Oh, is it Kenny? Brian? Steve Rogers?”

“Funny. You can call me Billy if you like.”

“Mmm... I like Tasky better.”

He chuckles at that. “You should clean yourself up a little bit. The missus just entered the building.”

Carol glances around the room as the line clicks off and the dial tone drones on. She’s not in sight of the window, but did she stand there long enough for him to get an idea of what she looked like right now? Maybe. Maybe Hydra really does have cameras installed inside the apartment.

Arguing with a man who wants her dead was strangely cathartic, but nothing compares to the release when the apartment door opens and Jess walks in, at first pleasantly surprised to find Carol there, and then concern creases her brow as she pulls Carol into a hug. Her long black wig comes loose and falls to the ground, forgotten in the moment.

“What’s going on, Carol?” 

Carol tries to hold it in, to be strong, but once Jess holds her, all the anger and frustration flood out of her. She sobs in Jess’s arms, until finally she gets the story out while Jess seats them both on the couch. No one but Jess gets to see her like this. And Hydra, she guesses, but fuck them.

“So it happened,” Jess says. “And it was worse than we thought it would be.” Carol nods. Jess continues, “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

Carol gapes at her. “Huh? No.”

“I pushed the point at prom, which gave Miller the ammunition against you.”

Carol shakes her head vehemently. “This is not your fault.” She pulls Jess back into a hug, fingers in her curly blonde hair. “It was going to come out eventually.”

“Still.”

“Still nothing,” Carol says. She pushes back on Jess and stares into her green eyes. “Besides, you can make it up to me.”

“I can kick your dad in the junk for you,” Jess offers, and Carol snorts laughter.

“Maybe we could do it together. But what I really need is a place to stay.”

Jess’s lips curl up into an impish grin. “Carol Danvers, are you asking to move in with me?”

“I’m not... not asking that?” Carol says, a blush rising to her cheeks. 

Jess leans in and whispers in Carol’s ear, “Of course you can stay here.”

That takes all the hurt from today that’s been eating away at her insides, banishes it like a demon at an exorcism, and her heart feels lighter.

“Love you, Drawed.”

“Love you too, Care Bear.”

Carol grins, wiping the last, happy tears from her eyes. “So you’re sleeping on the couch, right?”

Jess smacks her with a couch cushion. Kicked out of the house and disowned by her father, so why does she have a smile on her face now? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Apologies for the delays in getting a new chapter posted. Pandemic life finally caught up to me and writing has been difficult. Hopefully things will stabilize and I'll be able to get back on routine.


	15. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her father kicked her out of her house for being gay, Carol meets with her mother and brother. Later, she goes to her internship at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, only to find out that something's up and she's wanted for questioning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a different chapter promised on Twitter, but that chapter wasn't quite ready and this one needed to happen first! Apologies to anyone who's waiting for the hinted at appearance of a beloved furball.

This day is sure to be hard, but Carol has to keep moving forward. She waits until her father leaves for work, then pulls up to the only home she’s ever known, driving Jessica’s beater of a car, borrowed for the task of retrieving her belongings. She’s spiked up her hair and has on her aviator jacket and sunglasses. In case she runs into her father, she has decided she will be at peak rebellion.

Her mother and brother wait on the porch, Steve in his signature baseball tee and backwards cap, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, their mother in high-waisted jeans and a floral print blouse. She looks both angry and ashamed in her stance and inability to look directly into Carol’s eyes.

“Hey,” Carol says. The car door’s click shut punctuates her greeting.

“Hey, doofus,” Steve says, “we were worried about you.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be--”

“Cool with it?” Steve looks around before stepping down the steps and leaning closer to whisper. “You all dropped an alien atom bomb on my head a couple days ago, and you think I’m gonna be mad you like girls? Girls are great, of course you like them! I don’t know why so many people don’t.”

Carol snorts. It’s a dumb joke, but for some reason it makes her feel immensely better. “Thanks, dork. Mom?”

“I can’t believe he kicked you out, honey,” is all her mother says at first. She almost glides down the steps of the porch and throws her arms around Carol before Carol can even think about resisting. “I threatened to leave if he didn’t come to his senses.”

This level of ultimatum is something she has never seen from her mother, and is something Carol wasn’t sure she was capable of. After all, she’s an alien hiding on a backwater planet. What kind of backbone could a woman like that ultimately muster?

Apparently a stiff one. Steve says, “It was crazy, Care. I’ve never seen Dad so angry and confused.”

Carol smiles, feeling equal parts warmth that most of her family is okay with the way she is, and frustration that of course her father is the odd one out. She says, “Yeah, well, the ‘90s are super weird and he’ll get on board with it sooner or later.” Or he won’t, she thinks. That’s the normal version of this story. Your child is gay and therefore you no longer have a child. 

“Did you have any trouble finding a place to stay?” her mother asks, ushering her up the steps and inside what used to be her home. It hurts to realize that. This is not her home anymore. For a moment she can’t even go inside, but Steve drags her in without noticing her own melodrama.

Carol shakes her head. “Turns out when you have a secret girlfriend with her own place, you’re kind of welcome there?”

“So it’s true? You and Jess?” Steve asks. She nods, embarrassed, but pleased. “And here I just thought you always treated her like the sister you wished you had.”

She lets her mother plant her into a seat at the kitchen table and pour some lukewarm coffee. Carol says, “Jerk. I don’t know how to describe it. But we’ve always been the most important person to the other. Eventually, we just--we knew we were even more than that.”

“How long?” Steve asks.

Carol hesitates, blushing slightly. This isn’t a conversation she ever expected to have, but it’s out in the open. “For me it was right before she left to get treatments. Jess knew longer than that.”

Her mother asks, “And what about your internship? Your intention to go into the Air Force?”

Oh shit, that’s right. Can’t serve if you’re out. That might ruin everything. She outed herself to a bunch of people at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility already, but hopefully none of them would take it upon themselves to keep her out of the proper military when the time came.

“Internship is fine. Air Force, I guess we’ll cross that road when we get to it.” Carol sighs, taking a sip of the old coffee. “It’s great to know you’ve got my back. Seriously, Mom. I know we have our problems, but this is major.”

Marie Danvers, Mari-Ell, chuckles. “You’re my daughter and society can stuff it.” 

Carol smiles. “Sounds exactly like the thing a person says when they also fled a galactic fascist regime.”

That sours the moment, and they fall into silence for a couple of seconds. Carol shrugs. “I need to grab some stuff. Clothes. My cassettes. Pictures and things.”

“Of course,” Marie says, placing a reassuring over Carol’s. “Do you need some food, or money?”

Carol shakes her head again. “Not yet. Our jobs are good enough for the place Jess has. It’ll be tough, but we’ll get by.” That Jess isn’t even paying for her apartment is knowledge no one needs.

“Well, Steve, go grab some boxes from the garage. I’ll get your suitcase, and we can load you up.” She reaches for Carol’s face, cupping her cheek in a soft, warm hand. Carol leans into it, unexpectedly so needful of her family’s assurance. “I really thought we’d have another year before you were moving out, for school or work or military.” She wipes a tear away, and Carol resists the welling up of her own eyes. No one else gets to see her cry. Not even for this.

“Life happens to us all sooner or later,” Carol says. Steve snorts and playfully socks her in the arm before running off to get boxes.

Carol’s room feels like a foreign country. It’s who she has been for years, but also now it’s who she used to be. All the telltale signs of growing up, covered up by new obsessions, new bands. She gathers up the broken picture frame of her and Jess and stuffs it into her bag next to the Care Bears figures, and grabs a bunch of other random photos of her family and friends. Her mother brings a comically large and comically pink suitcase into her room while Carol is rummaging through her desk for more stuff.

Carol scoffs. She has forgotten all about this travesty of luggage, granted to her by a father who did not know or care that she didn’t like that girly stuff. 

Her mother grins, though. “Sorry, I know it’s not you, but it’s what you’ve got to work with.”

“It’s fine, Mom. I’ll just shove it in a closet when I get back to Jess’s. Better a piece of luggage than my entire self in the closet.”

Her mother forces a smile at the crude joke. “Do you want some help?”

Carol shakes her head. There’s something important happening here, but she can’t quite put a finger on it yet. “I think I need to do this part myself.”

Marie nods, as if expecting it. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll be here, no matter what, every time.”

Carol smiles at her mother. This is such a weird experience, to have the unmitigated love and support from her mother, whom she has always felt detachment and tension from in the past. Keeping a secret like extraterrestrials can do that, she supposes.

The door closes behind Marie, and Carol takes a deep breath. The room even has a particular scent that is familiar to her. Comforting. It’s not just home. This room is everything about her that she has been allowed to choose for herself, slowly papered over with new hers over time. Leaving it behind feels like mourning.

Her heart aches at every little reminder that she’s leaving. That she can’t just take this entire space with her. She shoves all her basic boyish clothing into the suitcase--jeans and tee shirts and baseball raglans--then grabs both the tuxedo and the dapper suit Tony and Jess gifted her, and stares around the room. 

What remains is the girl Carol left behind years ago. The room looks like it belongs to a middle schooler desperate to figure out who she is, because all the discoveries have been lifted away.

She sighs as she hefts the suitcase, suits, and her bag, and gives the room one final glance before opening the door and almost running into her mother, standing just outside.

“Did you get everything? Underwear? Socks? Lady Stuff?”

“Mom.”

“Deal with your mother being a mother for a moment.”

“Yes, Mom, I emptied the dresser and I’ll grab pads out of the bathroom.”

“Good. That’s… very good.” Steve jumps up the steps two at a time carrying a couple of small boxes, then stops at the sound of their mother’s voice.

“Oh, are you about to have a moment?”

Carol laughs to cover the sudden emotion. “Shut it, jerk, and get over here.”

Steve drops the boxes and comes over. Marie envelops them both in a great big bear hug, strength of Kree and all, and just holds them for a long time, rocking back and forth. Steve looks uncomfortable, and Carol bears it. 

It’s nice, it turns out, to be loved.

Finally their mother lets go, and laughs while wiping away tears. “Sorry, this is just a lot.”

“It’s okay. I’m not gone.” Not yet. She glances back at her door, where one of the entrances to the shared bathroom is located. “Steve, would you mind going in and dumping my deodorant and stuff into one of those boxes?”

“Ew, I’m not touching your tampons or whatever.”

Her mother glares. “Steve--” 

“Kidding, kidding, I’m going. Yeesh, tough crowd.”

He collects a box and disappears into his room while Carol and Marie lug her belongings downstairs. The thud of the suitcase wheels against the steps sounds like regret.

“I’m sure it won’t be long and you can come home.”

Carol is sure it’ll be longer than her mother thinks, but she smiles and nods. 

“Couple of weeks at the most and you can be back here, and your father can grow a little.”

“He can grow a tumor for all I care,” Carol mutters, and her mother doesn’t hear it. 

Steve jogs down the steps with a box full of Carol’s toiletries, and a couple of towels on top for good measure. “Figured you might need extra.”

“This okay, Mom?” Carol asks, and Marie smiles. 

“Whatever you need, dear.”

Carol nods gratefully and sighs, looking around at what used to be her home. “Okay, well, I’ve got extended internship hours today, so I better drop these off and get out there.”

They all carry something out to Jess’s car, and once it’s all loaded, Carol turns to them. Steve scratches his head and puts his cap back on, then says, “Um, I’ve got a game tonight, if you wanted to stop by.”

“Not gonna be anywhere that Dad is for a bit. But you can call me at Jess’s number to talk about it later, if you want. Um. This should go without saying, but if you call, don’t say anything about our… you know.”

“Yeah, no, never where anyone can hear it, or record it. You guys drilled it in hard enough.”

“Good.” She gets a scrap of paper and a pen out of her bag and writes down Jess’s number. “Seriously, nothing incriminating or revealing over the phone.”

Carol hugs them both again, and good byes happen again, and then they keep talking and have to do the whole rigmarole over, until it gets absurd and Carol throws her hands up.

“Okay, I’m really going this time. I’m gonna miss you both.”

“We’ll work on Dad,” Steve says. “Promise.”

“Home before you know it,” their mother says. Carol catches the wariness in her eyes, though. She knows better, even if she won’t say it out loud.

Carol gives them both a final hug and hops into the car, and she’ll forever remember this moment. She’s been an intern for a secret government agency, a victim of mutant manipulation, gotten her ass kicked and kicked some ass herself, fallen in love, fought for the rights of others. And despite all that she’s experienced the last couple years, this is the moment she finally feels adulthood slip over her.

This is the moment everything changes.

Jess drives her to base, having made an appointment with Dr. Storm so they could come here together, and also so Jess can run reconnaissance on Stark’s lab, if she can. 

Jess was perfect about the emotional fallout Carol experienced when she brought her meager belongings into Jess’s apartment. They are running late now, because it took time to pick herself back up, but Carol has no complaints. Everything is strange, and she lives somewhere new, but this new doesn’t have to be bad. 

When they pull up to the gate, something is going on. There are more soldiers than usual, people are on alert. Jess rolls her window down so they can sign in and drive through, but the guard on duty shakes his head at her.

He says, “The intern can sign in, but no civilians at this time.”

“But I have an appointment with Dr. Storm,” Jess says. She glances at Carol and Carol’s eyebrows raise.

“Then you’ll have to reschedule. Miss Danvers, if you’ll step out of the vehicle.”

Jess stares at Carol in some kind of warning, but Carol shrugs.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m sure it’s nothing. Uh… probably best if we don’t PDA right now.”

“Spoilsport.” Her lips are curled in a smile, but Jess’s eyes are creased with worry. “I guess, call when you’re done?”

“Maybe they’ll give me one of these fancy sedans,” Carol jokes as she hugs Jess despite her own reservations, and hops out of the car. “See you later, Drawed.”

Jess backs the car away from the gate, but doesn’t leave until Carol is safely inside. Carol waves goodbye after the more intrusive search and signing in process. They dig through her bag and a female soldier pats her down, but ultimately they clear her and she is let through.

Waiting on the other side of the gate is one Dr. Wendy Lawson, lounging on the hood of her convertible in big sunglasses and her leather jacket. “Thought you were never gonna get here, Danvers.”

“So you decided to sunbathe?”

Lawson chuckles as she sits up and leans forward to whisper, “Hey, your sun doesn’t exactly have the power to burn this skin, so why not soak it up?”

“Really? I got genetically robbed.” She remembers very clearly the agony of blisters at thirteen, when she and Jess thought it was nonsense, all this worry about sunburns. Never again. This memory also shifts. They took care of each other, sometimes with bare backs, hot skin, cool aloe vera. The heat on Carol’s face was clearly not from the burning, as she told herself at the time. 

She blushes slightly now, but covers it with a clearing of her throat. “What’s going on? They wouldn’t let Jess in at all.”

“Internal audit,” Lawson says, tossing Carol the keys. “Seems like a few things have gone missing, and they’re just putting their ducks in a row. Ducks in this case being hand grenades.”

“Missing?” Carol repeats. Her skin goes cold all over. She whispers, “Like with Emma last year?” And how would this affect Jess’s mission?

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. We know what to look for with that now, and I cleared you and Agent May after that all went down.”

“Uh huh,” Carol says, unconvinced. Agent Melinda May. It would make a kind of sense, wouldn’t it? She thinks about it as they drive. Over the last year, sometimes May has been distant and cold for seemingly no reason. Maybe she  _ has _ been mentally manipulated. Maybe Lawson missed it.

“Are you sure about May? She got tapped pretty hard with mind control when we went up against Emma.”

Lawson shrugs. “Not 100%, but yeah, pretty sure. If this is something besides your run-of-the-mill light treason, I’ll be shocked.”

“What’s been going missing?” Carol asks.

“Oh, I think they said minor stuff. A few things from medical, a static baton for crowd control, a laptop that didn’t have any information on it.”

Carol doesn’t say anything, but her face must be speaking volumes. Lawson says, “What’s that look for?”

Carol sighs. She doesn’t want to question her mentor this way; it’s rude. “I mean, it sounds an awful lot like the things Emma had me taking. Just whatever was around, whatever I could get away with.”

Lawson shrugs it off, though. “Maybe, but I think we’d know.” She laughs and jostles Carol’s shoulder. “Your instincts aren’t bad, Carol. I’ll check her again. In the meantime, you should be prepared to be audited.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re gonna question you, and if the vibe I got from the guys who questioned me is any indication, they’re going to really drill into you as an outsider.”

“Perfect. Not like I have any secrets or anything.”

“Hey, we may make jokes, but this is pretty serious. If you act funny, or give them any indication that you are hiding something, they will look closer. They will start asking more questions.”

“I’ll be careful. Kree lips sink ships.”

Lawson chuckles at that. “You know, one thing I admire about your human languages is their endless capacity for idiom, for reshaping meaning. There’s something unique about it. In all the peoples the Kree have conquered--”

“A lot of those, are there?” Carol interrupts.

“You’ve heard the histories at this point, you tell me.” She shrugs. “It’s rare, though, this capacity. I only know one other race with the same depth of meaning in their spoken languages.”

She doesn’t offer the name of the race, and Carol can’t ask, as they pull up to the place Lawson directed them: the administration building, where there is quite a flurry of activity. Many soldiers and agents come and go, some heading in for questions, some heading out from questioning. Lawson makes a “shoo” gesture for Carol to get out of the car, and scoots over to the driver’s seat once Carol does.

“Meet over at the quinjet hangar when you’re done. Got a surprise for you today.” She drives off before Carol can ask what it is, but now she’s burdened with nervous excitement on top of the nervous fear.

Carol signs in to the administration building and is escorted to the main office pool, where Director Carter’s office is located. Here a conference room looks to have been taken over by the internal review board, and Carol takes a seat designated for her. Director Carter’s blinds are shut, but Carol can see the silhouette of a man gesturing emphatically inside. No one else she’s very familiar with is really around, and the air of nervous tension keeps anyone from making small talk. 

Dr. Susan Storm comes out of the conference room looking positively furious, and marches right past Carol without noticing her on her way to Director Carter’s office. Carol says, “Hi to you, too, Doc.”

That brings Susan up short, her lab coat flapping as she whirls. “Not the time, Danvers. Where’s Miss Drew? I’m late for our appointment.”

Carol eyes her curiously. “They said no civilians. Which… aren’t you?”

Susan calms down a little, and sighs, her hands in her lab coat. “Technically, but when you crash on your office sofa because you stayed so late the night before, you tend to already be here when that order comes down.”

She yawns, and Carol can see the signs. Her normally crisp button-up shirt is a little wrinkled. Her hair has stray fly-aways. She looks like she could use some coffee.

Susan says, “Well, hopefully this nonsense is over with before too long and we can reschedule her. I had some new tests I wanted to run.”

Carol stands to stretch and walks with Susan a short distance away from the pool of people waiting to be questioned. She says quietly, “I heard some of the stuff that went missing is medical. Was any of it yours?”

Susan’s eyes narrow at Carol. “Not that I’m aware of, but they’ve been tight-lipped about the specifics of what has gone missing.” She glances around before locking eyes with Carol. “If you don’t have anything to do with it, I’d hesitate to make them aware that you know more than you should.”

Carol nods. That’s curious. She supposes it might make sense that Lawson would be privy to the specifics since she’s occupying a special place as a civilian granted high clearance, opposed to Dr. Storm who’s just a civilian suffered for her expertise. It might, but does it, make sense?

Dr. Storm smooths her blouse and skirt, fixes her hair in a window reflection, and says goodbye. She knocks on Director’s Carter’s door and steps inside. Briefly, Carol sees that Howard Stark and Peggy Carter are in there, having a heated discussion, before the door closes on all three of them.

Carol’s name is called, and she jumps in startlement. She rushes back to her assigned seat and finds a serious-looking young man, probably a couple years older than her at the most, reading from a clipboard.

“I’m Danvers.”

He looks bored before he catches sight of her, then smiles slightly at her appearance. “You’re up. Head inside, answer questions, fill out the questionnaire on your way out the door.”

“Any helpful tips not to anger the review board?” she asks.

“Don’t be… your whole thing. So I guess no helpful tips.” He smirks. She kinda wants to knee him in the junk.

She smiles viciously right back at him, and steps past him, making sure to shoulder check the jerk a little on her way. “Oh, so sorry! Must be an updraft caught my spikes.”

Before he can do more than scoff indignantly, she steps through the door to the conference room and closes it behind her. Inside are three very upright, uptight gentlemen perusing personnel files, reviewing lists, checking against other lists. She feels like she stepped into an accountant’s meeting. They’re all arranged on one side of the conference table. The room smells of cigarette smoke, stale coffee, and testosterone.

The oldest of the three, a graying man with a big mustache and a no nonsense gleam in his eyes, holds a hand out to Carol, gesturing for the opposite side of the table. Carol sits down, adjusts her leather jacket, and clasps her hands in front of her on the table.

“Carol Danvers, S.H.I.E.L.D. Intern, reporting as directed.”

“Yes,” the middle aged man says, opening a rather thick portfolio with her picture on the front of it. He’s a little paunchy, but his salt and pepper hair and stone chin gives him an authority she doesn’t want to question, despite her tendency to always question authority. “Rather irregular, a secret government agency having something so peculiar as an  _ intern _ .”

“Is that more or less peculiar than letting civilian scientists run loose inside the agency?” She sighs as soon as she says it. It’s not her place to put Howard Stark, Wendy Lawson, and Susan Storm in the crosshairs of this review board. And her snark has landed about as well as a joke about fascism in the military based on these men’s stares.

“As peculiar, given Howard Stark spearheaded your involvement.” This comes from the youngest of the three, perhaps in his late twenties, with a clean shaven face, a twinkle in his eyes that says he sees everything, and hair so shiny and slicked back it must be jet engine grease holding it in place. He takes her file from the oldest man and thumbs through it.

“Are you aware of what we’re doing here, Miss Danvers?” he asks.

Don’t admit to anything. “Counting breath mints in ramekins? I know it’s a big facility, but someone has to do the dirty work.”

The middle aged man snorts a little, but the oldest makes a mark in a notepad. Carol really wishes she could see what that pad says.

“We’re accounting for items that have gone missing over the last year,” the youngest man says. It looks like they’re going to allow him to lead this inquiry, no doubt because he’s handsome and closer to her age than the others. Put her at ease and then go for the kill. Good luck, chumps.

“Sounds serious,” she says noncommittally. What items have gone missing? Medical stuff, a shock baton, did Lawson say something about grenades? “I guess you can’t just write off a nuke if it walks off the base, huh?”

The middle aged man snorts laughter again, but the older man silences him with a glare. “What? She’s funny.”

The youngest man continues, “No, nuclear armaments would not lightly go missing. You’ve been an intern for a couple years now, right? Since… December of 1989?”

She does the quick math and nods. “Sounds right.”

The older man interrupts, “You weren’t even old enough to drive when you snuck on base, evading cameras, soldiers, everything. Looking, if I’m not mistaken, much like you do right now.”

“What can I say?” she asks, aware that she’s in a dangerous position, but knowing if she clams up and becomes nervous, defensive, these men will take that as guilt. “You impress the right man, you get an intern badge.”

The middle aged man nods. “So it would seem. Tell me, Miss Danvers, have you ever been accused of theft?”

There it is. He might like Carol’s verve, but he’s here to catch a thief all the same. 

She shrugs. “When you’re a girl with spikes and piercings, people tend to think the worst of you.”

“That was not an answer,” the youngest man says. She decides his name is Rocko.

“Trying to buy a can of coke, I’ve been asked to empty my pockets,” she says, leaning forward. “I’m not a thief, but I have been accused of it by petty store clerks.”

The older man makes another mark. She decides his name is Bosco. He says, “Your criminal record is not… clean, Miss Danvers. But upsetting the peace is not what we’re looking into today.”

“Who says my criminal record is dirty?” she asks, put on the defensive despite herself. 

The middle aged man adjusts his suit and leans forward conspiratorially. She decides his name is Asshole. “We have a few more questions for you, and then you’re free to go.”

She glances between these three men she’s dubbed Rocko, Asshole, and Bosco. She leans back in her chair and shrugs. “Let me answer them for you. I don’t know what’s gone missing from this military base. I have no clearances to go anywhere really fun without an escort. I’m sure you’re all sitting here thinking this is a slam dunk case. Shit takes a drive, blame the punk intern.”

Rocko shuffles some papers and nods. “You must think you’re doing yourself a favor, playing the victim. I assure you, we do not assume you are the thief, or even a thief in general. We just follow trails.” 

Bosco makes another mark on his paper, and it is everything Carol has in her not to snatch it from him and see just what’s so damn interesting. 

“Would you like me to give you a trail to follow?” she asks. She’s mad, and not just because this has unexpectedly put her in jeopardy. 

Asshole nods his ascent. “By all means, paint us a picture of the girl who cried punk.”

Oh fuck these guys. “Okay.” She stands up and paces. “Follow this. Blame the one person on base who has  _ one shot _ at making this into more than just a strange thing she did as a teenager, and turning it into a decades spanning career as an ace pilot in the most advanced military in the world. Blame it on the girl who risked her freedom, her life, just to see what was going on inside this base, and when she found out what it was? She signed up because she wants to fly.

“Blame it on a person who knows she isn’t going to college, because suddenly it’s far more expensive than it was a decade ago, and her parents can only send one of their kids. Blame it on the girl who shows up to her internship every day, who gets kicked down, laughed at, physically abused, and loves every second, because it’s where she wants to be.”

She glares at the old man, Bosco. “Blame it on Carol Danvers, who only wants to fly, and who knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she gets into trouble before she’s ever even enlisted, that she will never, ever see the cockpit of a Strike Eagle, and will have to go home to a father who expects her to marry and be a housewife. She will have to go home and work clerical until a husband scoops her up, which may be your absolutely most favorite thing in the world, but to this girl--this rebel--it is death with a side of fuck you.”

She sits back down, rapping her knuckles on the table as she huffs and folds her arms in front of her. When Rocko, Asshole, and Bosco glance at each other, and Bosco makes yet another mark in his notepad, she sighs.

“Are we done here? Either you think I’m a thief, or you’re just wasting my time.”

“I think we have everything we need,” Asshole says. “If you’ll fill out this questionnaire before you go.” He slides a small card over to her, and tosses her a pen. The card has her name on it, plus an official response to the proceedings.

“I,  Carol Danvers ,  Intern , have not knowingly or unknowingly taken unauthorized property off the military base to which I am assigned.” She circles “True” next to this statement.

“I have not been the recipient of stolen goods as a package carrier, transporting illicit goods outside the base for an authority figure or other person in charge of me.” “True” to that one also.

“I have no recollection of any property going missing in the areas to which I have been assigned.” She marks “True” on that one, though it is the least true of the three.

She signs her name at the bottom, and tosses it back to Asshole. “Good now?”

Rocko smiles, thinking his handsome charms are having any effect on her at all. “Thank you, Miss Danvers. If we have additional questions, we will send for you.”

She stands up and leaves without another word, and once she’s back outside, she feels as though her skin is raw and her soul has been scooped out with a melon baller. She waits until she gets outside the Admin building to release the tension in her body, and for several long breaths sitting in her golf cart, she just works to calm herself down.

She didn’t steal anything. So why does she feel so guilty? Why do her fingers shake now that the adrenaline has found her? 

Because she’s deathly afraid that she knows who the thief actually is, and that if she’s right, she will only point back to herself as having been compromised the year before. And if she’s right, all of this effort, all of this secrecy and hard work, will have been for nothing. It will come crashing down around her, and she won’t even have Jess to comfort her. Military criminals don’t get light sentences.

She starts the engine on her little golf cart and heads for the quinjet hangar, and perhaps a fate she can’t avoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Something a little different, as an adventure absent of Carol and Jess gets underway.


	16. The Adventures of Goose and Goose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol gets a surprise gift, then recruits some friends to prove a theory she has about Airman May. Later, Melinda May has an adventure with an unexpected companion.

Carol charges into the quinjet hangar, ready to take Mar-Vell to task about Agent May and her potential manipulation. Only Melinda May is standing right there with Lawson, in front of the quinjet, making jokes. 

When Lawson sees Carol, she grins wide and then that grin fades as Carol scowls. “Interview go that bad, Cheeseburger?”

“It didn’t go great, I can tell you that much.” She glares at May, and May smiles back uncertainly. “Can I have a word with Dr. Lawson?”

May glances at Lawson, who shrugs ascent, and May says, “I’ll go run a final systems check. Maybe that face will look different when I’m done.” She grins and disappears inside the quinjet.

That catches Carol off guard. Lawson had said something about a surprise. She shakes her head. Stay focused.

“Okay, kid, what’s the stink eye for?” Lawson asks, leaning up against the quinjet.

“I had my interview, and I’m pretty sure they think I stole these items.”

“But you didn’t, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“I have other things to worry about. They already triple check my every move, I don’t need that kind of scrutiny, and I’m pretty sure you don’t, either.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Danvers. They’ve got nothing on you, and they can’t. There’s nothing to get.”

“That’s not what I’m pissed about.” Carol takes a deep breath.

“Oh? What now?”

Carol whispers, “I’m like, 95% positive here that May is under Emma’s manipulation. Same as I was.”

“I already cleared her, Danvers. I cleared you, while I was at it. We know Frost’s tricks now, and that means she can’t do anything to us again.”

“You’re being so flippant about this!” Carol hisses. 

“And you’re being paranoid. I need you to drop this because if you start acting weird, they really will start coming around and asking questions we don’t have good answers for. Like, for instance, why we’re taking a minor and a civilian for a ride in a highly classified military spy plane.”

Carol stares dumbfounded. She didn’t hear that right. “I’m gonna need you to say that again.”

“Your surprise,” Lawson says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “We finally got your temporary approval pushed through. You can go on official flights now, as part of your internship.”

Carol’s stomach dances and her nerves shout out. This is amazing. This is-- “Incredible.”

“Knew you’d be stoked. So come on, Danvers, let’s forget all this mind manipulation business and get you in the sky.”

Carol doesn’t forget it. Not by a long shot. But she smiles and follows Lawson up into the quinjet. It’s happening. It’s been over a year, but it’s finally happening. She can worry about Agent May and Emma Frost later.

Thirty minutes later, Carol is drunk on elation and her throat burns because she threw up. A lot. She threw up a lot. 

But it was worth every damned second! The way this thing lifts, and cuts, and shoots off in another direction. It should break their damned necks, but Stark and Lawson have some nifty inertial dampening tricks that make it so they don’t get whiplash and snap their frail human necks. Or Kree necks. Or any necks.

Despite this, the quinjet is  _ swift _ . It can stop on a dime, lift or dive shockingly fast, maneuver through spaces no human jet is capable of at speeds no one should be able to fly at, let alone with any skill.

It’s amazing, every last moment. She grins ear to ear as they offload, and only then does she let her other problem intrude. The Airman May problem.

She rushes off to the lockers to clean up and change, after thanking Lawson one last time and giving her best act that she’s forgotten all about Emma Frost.

She makes a phone call once she’s alone, and instructs the caller to meet her at the gates.

She rushes back out, hopeful that Agent May hasn’t left yet, and finds May’s sedan parked outside of the quinjet hangar. So far so good. There’s a sheen of dirt on the back window, and Carol writes “Wash Me” on it. Even if May wipes it down, it’s a good signal. And maybe Carol’s wrong about this. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding and there is just a little bit of light treason going on at the base. Some young recruit disillusioned with their place in the world.

One can hope and pray.

She meets Tony Stark in his Mustang Boss at the gate, and frowns as Tony smiles real big and says, “Look who crashed the party!” Carol bends down and peers into the back seat, where Rhodey and Maria wave. Shit. That isn’t part of the plan. Maria knows about the S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff, but Rhodey doesn’t. Or shouldn’t. And none of them know the finer points of Emma Frost’s manipulation.

“Hey guys,” she says, walking around and hopping into the front seat. “Been a while. Didn’t realize Tony was hanging with you when I called him.”

Maria chuckles. “Why not? Sometimes I think they’re so attached at the hip, it’ll make a girl jealous.”

Rhodey laughs at that and Tony chuckles as he backs up and drives away from the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure what you had going on, but it was faster to just come get you than it was to go dropping them anywhere.”

“Just go down the road a ways and pull off. We need to see when someone leaves.” Tony nods, not questioning anything. Not like him, but with Rhodey in the car, and Tony uncertain if Maria knows more than she’s supposed to, Carol can’t blame him.

“What you got, Flygirl?” Maria asks. Carol glances in the rearview mirror, where she can just see Rhodey’s unassuming smile. He doesn’t know about all this stuff, or shouldn’t.

Carol says, “Have you told him anything about… anything?”

“I knew about Jessica being back, if that’s what this is,” Rhodey offers.

“Not that.” She sighs. He’s a pretty straight edge kind of guy, but Maria trusts him, and she trusts Maria. Not with everything, but maybe he can learn a little something extra. “My internship with ‘Stark Aviation’ is kind of a front.”

“No shit, Danvers.”

“You told him?” Carol accuses Maria, who gives her a dead ass stare like how dare Carol accuse her.

“No one’s told him anything, unless you’re about to drop it.”

“Then what does that--”

Rhodey interrupts, “It means no one had even  _ heard _ of Stark Aviation until your internship came along. That place has been in operation longer than any of us have been alive. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a Stark corporation, or science division, or whatever.”

Carol forces a smile. “It kind of is, though.” She can’t tell him everything, but she tells him enough. Enough to go on for what she’s got planned tonight.

While she talks, a black sedan leaves the gates, but it’s not Melinda May. A military Jeep from Hanscom AFB leaves soon after, followed by a couple of trucks with “Stark Aviation” emblazoned on the side. Good cover, to actually create some freight.

Finally, another black sedan comes through, and from here Carol can see that the back window has been wiped clean, despite the rest of the car being dusty. “That’s her,” she says. “We need to follow that car.”

“So okay,” Rhodey says, “I know you just explained some stuff, and it sounds pretty wild, but is what we’re doing… above the level? This is some spy stuff going on.”

“We’ll be fine. Tony, follow her.” 

“Aye aye, Captain Care Bear.”

The two in the back stare wide eyed at this name, and Carol glares at Tony. Maria grins and says, “Care--”

“That nickname doesn’t leave this car.”

“Sure, sure, Careburger,” Rhodey says, clearing his throat. “Sorry, something got caught.”

They’re all trying to hold in their laughter, and Carol could just kill Tony for sharing that most intimate of nicknames Jess has for her. 

“You will pay dearly for this, Anthony Stark,” Carol promises, and the car erupts in laughter while pacing Agent May’s sedan.

It takes some time, and quite a bit of lagging far enough back that they won’t be sighted, which nearly loses their quarry multiple times, but finally, Melinda May pulls to a stop in the heart of Boston, parking in a small open air lot, while Tony stops a couple blocks up. One of the richer neighborhoods, with condos no doubt more expensive than Carol’s entire block back in Beverly. This parking lot seems to service the nearby houses for guests and overflow vehicles.

Rhodey whistles low and appreciably. “This is a nice neighborhood. You imagine us getting a place like this someday, ‘Ria?”

Carol and Tony both glance at Maria, and her eyes are wide, but she just shrugs and says, “Too rich for my blood.” The awkward moment passes, and May gets out of the car. They’re too far back, but Carol can see her open the trunk, pull something out, and close it again, before leaving the lot and approaching one of the condos. It’s too far away, farther down the street they’re on. They can’t see the door from here, and Carol clenches Tony’s arm. “We need to know who she’s visiting. Drive by.”

“Look,” Tony starts, “I’m all for messing with my dad, but this is getting a little too real. Shouldn’t we bring this to some proper authorities if she’s doing something wrong?”

“We gotta bring something more than theory and minors complaining,” Carol says. “Do it. Drive.”

He sighs and pulls back out into traffic, as May reaches the top of the steps and knocks on a door. She waits, and Carol is afraid she’ll be inside before they get close enough.

But they get to the same block, and May still stands outside, waiting. She’s got a small briefcase with her, and she looks impatient. The door opens just as they’re driving by, and there it is. That immaculate platinum blonde head of long, straight hair. That white pantsuit that’s sexier than any pantsuit has ever thought about being.

Emma Frost.

“Shit.” They leave sight of the doorway as May vanishes inside. “Shit, shit, shit. I knew I was right, but I really didn’t wanna be.”

“So this means?” Rhodey asks. “She’s under some kind of mind spell from Emma? Your boss, Emma?”

“Yeah,” Carol says, “that Emma Frost. This is complicated now.” She thinks. “Okay, Tony, maybe we can head this off right now. Let’s go back to May’s car and confront her.”

“Are you out of your mind? You told me what that woman’s capable of, and I might have snuck a peek into a training session once or twice.”

“You can stay in the car, Tony Starch,” Carol says, feeling vindication at this nickname game. He frowns, and Maria laughs. 

“Ugh, fine. Let’s go get our asses kicked, I guess.” 

They barely have time to double back and get out of the car before Melinda May comes strolling back up the street. She clocks Carol and the others immediately, and slows her pace. “Game time,” Carol says, standing in front of May’s sedan, waiting for her.

May grimaces and enters the lot. “You’re not supposed to be here, Danvers. And why are a bunch of civvies with you?”

“That’s less important than this,” Carol says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re being manipulated by Emma Frost, like I was last year.”

She scoffs. “Nonsense.”

“Then why were you with her just now?”

Her friends stand behind her. Rhodey and Maria try to look imposing, but Tony kind of cowers. He really must have seen her in action before.

“I--I wasn’t,” May says. “I was taking a walk.”

“In this neighborhood?”

“I don’t have to answer to you, Danvers. Step away from my car.”

“We need to get you some help. Dr. Lawson can break this hold.”

“There’s no hold. Now get out of my way.” May doesn’t wait. She strides forward confidently, and when Carol doesn’t move, May tries to walk around her.

Tony finally joins the line, and steps up between her and the car. “Sorry, ma’am. For what it’s worth, she’s usually right.”

May’s body tenses up, and Carol readies herself for action. May says, “This isn’t going to go how you think it will.”

“I don’t care how good you are,” Maria says, “there’s four of us and one of us fights dirty.” She cracks her knuckles, but the display does nothing to intimidate Melinda May.

May sighs. “Have it your way.” She springs into motion, grabbing Tony by the collar of his polo and yanking him off balance. Before anyone can react, she drops to the ground and flips him over her, so that he sails a few feet away and into a parked car, denting it. He collapses to the concrete and moans.

Maria and Rhodey, both reluctant, try to tackle her at the same time, but she uses his momentum against her, and they collide with each other, falling to the ground. She backs away from them and almost into Carol, who ducks under May’s backhand strike and grabs the arm to try and flip her. They’re only going to have seconds to subdue her before too much attention is called to the fight and Emma Frost notices something going down in her neighborhood. 

May knows the maneuver too well, though, and leans into it to keep Carol from using her momentum against her. She’s only fought May for real once before, and it took the awakening of her Kree strength to beat her then. Carol lets loose with it now with a series of jabs and hooks while Tony and the others stand back up and rally. May dodges back from Carol’s hefty swings, bumps into a Cadillac, and rolls backwards onto the engine compartment, gaining the high ground. She kicks out to keep Carol back, which gives her time to stand up, hop onto the roof, and assume a fighting stance.

Carol hisses, “Surround her!” but May doesn’t wait for them. She leaps from the roof of the Cadillac onto an orange Dodge muscle car, denting the roof as she lands. Maria approaches first from one side as the rest scramble to get around the cars. Carol doesn’t see what happens, but Maria falls backwards, crumpling in on herself and lays still. Rhodey angrily goes for another tackle from behind, but May dodges and kicks him in the ass, sending him Maria’s way. Tony and Carol enter the aisle and close the distance, but May rushes at Carol, feints a strike, and grabs her by the neck and shoulder, manages to throw her into Tony. They collapse into a pile of bruised egos and breathless anger, but May doesn’t wait.

By the time anyone’s back up to fight, Airman Melinda May peels out of the lot, narrowly avoiding another car on the street, and drives away. She turns a corner before Tony can get the keys in the ignition, and the sound of her sedan fades into the night sounds of the city.

Rhodey bears up, holding Maria and his chest. “This was a fun double date, Danvers. Maybe next time we pick a fight with a gorilla at the zoo, or a shark in the ocean. We’ll fare better.”

Maria laughs and winces. “Bitch might have broken a rib.”

Carol smacks the hood of Tony’s Mustang in frustration and he says something about watching the paint job. May is in the wind and still under the compulsion of Emma Frost.

Rhodey says, “Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but this is what happens when you color outside the lines. Someone kicks you back inside them.”

She sure as hell did. Melinda May is a force to be reckoned with, which makes her  _ very _ dangerous in the enemy’s hands.

*****

Airman Melinda May curses under her breath. She pulls up in her government sedan to an apartment outside the city, in the suburbs. She spent a lot of time making sure she wasn’t being followed this time, and hits the buzzer.

“I ordered pizza an hour ago,” a voice comes out of the speaker box. It’s hard to discern and sounds tinny, far away.

“Not your late pizza,” May says. “We’ve got a problem.”

The door unlocks with a buzz and May hurries inside after one final check that she hasn’t picked up a tail. The door opens as she approaches and Dr. Wendy Lawson stares at her, expression unreadable.

“I’m gonna take a stab in the dark here, but I’m guessing our little ruse is over.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Sorry.” Lawson opens the door wider and allows May to enter, then shuts it behind her with a heavy sigh.

“Well, it was only a matter of time, really. This audit isn’t doing us any favors.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize Carol was following me,” May says.

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up. That kid has a lot of surprises up her sleeves. I’d offer you pizza, but.”

May leans against the counter in Lawson’s tiny kitchen. For a scientist working on experimental tech for the government, she lives a pretty austere life. A cat rubs up against May’s legs and meows for attention. A pretty orange cat with clever eyes and no collar.

May bends down to pet the cat. “Aren’t you affectionate?”

Lawson laughs. “Careful around her. She’s known to bite.”

“No collar?” The cat rubs its head all along her hand and sniffs it, then continues curling in and out of her legs.

"She's a stray, just showed up on my doorstep begging for scraps."

“What’s her name?”

“Not in the habit of naming freeloaders.”

“No name, but a home."

Lawson sighs. "Better a home than letting it loose on the streets. It's dangerous."

May stands back up and nods. "I suppose she could get hurt."

A surly snort from Lawson. "Sure. That's what I meant."

“Well, anyway, sorry. Carol thinks I’m under Emma’s control, that I’m stealing on her behalf.”

“Not the worst outcome, really.”

“Not the best. What if she goes over your head to try and clear her name?”

Lawson stares at her. “You think that through before you said it?”

May shrugs. “We’re way out on a limb here, Doc. I’ve been trying to get the evidence we need to implicate Frost, to get her taken care of through official channels, through means she can’t mind control her way out of, but it’s not going anywhere.”

“And you’re sure she thinks you’re still under her control?”

“Near as I can tell. So long as I do what she says, she doesn’t get too greedy about it. So long as I deliver, she doesn’t dig.”

Wendy Lawson drops into a chair in the small living space and the cat leaps into her lap. A comfortable rapport for a stray. Lawson says, “It might be time to abort. I was really hoping we’d take care of this problem for Carol and all those mutant kids she’s got under her thumb.”

“What do you want to do?” May asks. She’s afraid she knows the answer, and she doesn’t want to do it.

Lawson sighs and pets the nameless cat absently before saying, “You know where the items you’ve given her so far are located, yes?”

“I believe most of them are at that rec center. Some are in her home, including the scanner I gave her tonight.”

“Can you get into the rec center and recover them?”

“Most likely. We know they’ve got a guy who can hear a pin drop in a crowded room, but if I wait until he’s gone, I should be okay.”

“Then it has to be tonight. Go get those items back, and we’ll figure out what to do about Emma’s home.”

“No backup, huh?” May asks.

“I can send this furball along for the ride, if you like. I’ve got to figure out how to return the items once you get them back, so you’re on your own.”

“Great.” May sighs heavily and stands. “Can’t believe I’ve been doing this for a year just on the promise of flying your jet.”

“It’s more than a jet, you know that.”

May shrugs. “Even so. This goes wrong, I’ll be lucky to see the inside of a cockpit ever again. They’ll have me buried in a hole so deep I’ll never see sun.”

Lawson grins, that trademark smirk that May both loves and hates. It always spells trouble, even if it’s fun trouble. “Then I guess you better pull it off, Airman May. I need someone I trust to fly this thing when it’s ready.”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” May promises. “I’ll be back in a few hours, with or without the stolen tech.”

Lawson nods. “With would be nice.”

“Uh huh.” May pets the cat one more time as it crawls out of Lawson’s lap and perches on the chair arm. “Isn’t it bad luck to have a pet without a name?”

Lawson laughs. “Not on this planet.”

May smiles at the weird joke and takes her leave. She doesn’t want to let her mentor down, not in this, not in anything. It’s not just selfishness, she assures herself. It is partly that. No denying it. But May really just wants Lawson to succeed because the work she’s doing is important.

She opens the door on her government sedan before realizing that she shouldn’t be driving a vehicle that can be traced by S.H.I.E.L.D. for this. Nothing for it right now, though. She pops the hood and looks for any obvious tracking hardware, but doesn’t spot anything. Not that she thinks S.H.I.E.L.D. would be so obvious. It’s probably under a wheel well or inside the engine block somewhere.

She sighs and drops the hood shut before hopping into the car and taking off. 

After she hits the highway that’ll take her back into downtown Boston, a rustling sound issues from the back seat and May slams on the brakes, ready to leap over the seat and attack her would-be assaulter.

Only when she skids to a halt, a thump against the backside of the seat and a terrified cat’s yowl tell her it’s not exactly a hostile entity.

“Are you kidding me?” May yells, tamping down her adrenaline as she peers into the back seat, where the orange cat clings to her seat with razor sharp claws and fear in her large pupils.

The cat, after a moment of panic, climbs up the seat and crawls onto May’s shoulder before crawling down her and into the passenger seat. She licks herself and stares at May with an expression that feels to May like impatience.

“Stupid cat, give me a heart attack and now you’re just fine? How’d you even get in here?” Then she realizes she left her car door open while messing around under the hood. “Okay, well, whatever, Princess Sneakybutt. I’m not taking you back. You’ll just have to wait in the car.”

The cat mewls and licks its lips, and May grins. What a weird damn night.

Fortunately no one was following her closely on the highway or she’d have been rear-ended. She pulls back into traffic after getting to speed, and the cat--whom she is now thinking of as Princess Sneakybutt--braces with the new speed before calming down. 

“If you throw up in here, I’m sending the bill to Lawson.”

She meows indignantly, but doesn’t throw up, so that’s perfectly fine.

With her stowaway, Melinda May parks several streets away from the rec center. She’s aware of the schedule this place keeps, and tonight is not a meetup night for the mutant runaways. It should be mostly empty, save for those living there temporarily. It’s not so late that John Proudstar and Hank McCoy will be there from the ice cream place, but she’s not sure how to make sure she can sneak in and back out.

She opens the car door, intending to step out and trap the cat inside, to return her to Lawson after this is over, but the cat is deceptively quick, and darts out onto the street before May can get the door closed.

“She says you’re just a stray, but you’re a royal pain in my ass right now, Sneakybutt. If a cat gets me caught by these mutants, I’m just gonna retire in shame.” Princess Sneakybutt meows and curls around her legs before darting off into some shadows, presumably chasing some moth or rat or something. May shrugs. Not her problem right now.

May goes to a payphone and uses the phone book to look up Ice Dream, Inc. Luckily, it’s a newer book and the business is in there. She fishes out a coin and calls the place.

After a couple rings, Hank McCoy answers. “Ice Dream, Inc., where all your cold creams are fulfilled.” May rolls her eyes at this play on words. 

She lowers the sound of her voice and says, “Hi, I’m trying to reach a John Proudstar, I was told he works there?”

A moment of hesitation follows, then Hank cheerfully says, “Certainly, sir. Allow me to place you on hold while I inform him. May I ask who’s calling?”

She hangs up. Good enough. They’re still there, which should give May the time she needs. She heads into the alleyways, looking for the back door she’s scouted before. May creeps forward once she reaches the correct alley. They’re mutants; they might have any number of surveillance abilities beyond John and Hank. Or just regular old cameras. 

She darts from one pool of shadow to the next, hidden from the moon and lights over doorways. She reaches the last pool of darkness before the Devil’s Plaything’s back door is apparent. A small placard announces the business, and she sighs with relief that she’s made it this far.

Moving through the pooled shadow, she catches a silhouette not merely approaching her from the shadow, but emerging out of it like he’s made of darkness. May throws a wild punch in surprise, connects with only air, and the silhouette is gone. As if it were never there. Just her eyes playing tricks on her. Nerves.

Only that’s nonsense. Here, in a back alley where there are mutants nearby, she can’t take anything for granted. She backs up against the wall and edges toward the light cast by the bulb in a cage above the doorway. She doesn’t make it very far before an inky black hand grabs her in the shadow and yanks her off her feet, throwing her up against a dumpster. The resulting thud and clang is sure to alert anyone inside, but she doesn’t have time to worry about that. She scrambles to her feet as shadowed legs rush at her, like mist or smoke shuffling.

She kicks out now, and the shadow vanishes, only to push her forward into the darkness cast by the building. She swings wildly, fishing in her jacket pocket for the small flashlight she carries for just such occasions, and shines the light on the mutant made of shadow. He throws up hands to block out the light, and she kicks out at where he cowers. 

He vanishes again, completely from her sight. This is over before it’s ever truly begun, and she curses under her breath as she prepares to run.

But before she can take a step away from the rec center, just around the corner where she is about to run there’s a scuffle. Something or someone scrapes against the brick wall, yelps in surprise, and then silence reigns.

May approaches the corner and peers around, expecting to find some new horror. Only her flashlight lands on the cat, licking her paws and cleaning herself. When the beam of the flashlight hits her, her eyes glow in the reflection and Sneakybutt meows before darting forward to weave in and out of May’s legs.

May stares dumbfounded at the cat. Where’d the shadow guy go? Maybe he’s afraid of cats. Maybe he’s already informed Proudstar and the rest that they’re under attack.

May needs to move quickly, whatever just happened. She jogs back to the door she had been going for earlier, and tries the handle, sure she’s about to have to break in.

Only it clicks open and allows her entry. It’s not dark in the rec center’s back hallway, but it’s not well lit, either. She listens, but there’s only some laughter from the second floor as two of the young mutants rooming here crack jokes. No one knows she’s here, and whatever happened to the shadow guy outside seems not to have alerted anyone inside.

May creeps along the hallway, checking doors and hoping to find a store room or a basement. She’s not entirely sure where they’d be keeping the stolen goods, but she knows a building full of super-powered teens wouldn’t be the best place to leave it out in the open. If she and Lawson are right about this place, and it’s Emma’s recruitment center for some bigger plans for Boston, it would make sense for the gear to still be here. 

She picks up the pace when she hears a patter of feet, and the girl she knows as Clarice from the dossiers they’ve been gathering yells from somewhere up front, “Who wants soda? I think we still have the lemony shit.”

A chorus of voices yell from upstairs, and Clarice sighs audibly. “Lazy jerks!” May creeps forward to the cracked open door, watches Clarice gather drinks from a fridge and start towards the stairs before grinning. A hole in reality warps open in front of her, showing briefly scared mutant kids, and Clarice disappears through it before it snaps shut with a sharp tang of ozone in its wake.

What a place. What a power. May shakes her head and nearly kicks out when she feels something brush her leg. Stupid cat. 

She glances up at May, eyes glowing in the half-dark hallway, and presses her head against the door, shoving it open a little, enough for her to slip through. May isn’t expecting this treachery, and reaches for the door to bring it back in line with where it was.

And she waits. Princess Sneakybutt, the most annoying cat in history, walks languidly across the rec center’s main room and then sits back, staring around the room. No one’s there, no one’s moving around upstairs. It’s quiet, and there is one more door across the open floor May needs to try. She carefully steps outside the hallway, steps with a light foot across the well-lit main hall, and then darts for the door when it seems no one is coming.

The cat licks its leg and cleans itself while May presses down on the handle to open the door. Only the door doesn’t budge. Deadbolted. Of course it is.

She has a moment where she’s contemplating either kicking in the door and causing a ruckus, or figuring out some way to convince Clarice to open that rift in reality for her, to get into the basement undetected. But the longer she stands there thinking her way around that conversation, the more she recognizes it’s a fool’s errand.

“Any ideas, Sneakybutt?” she whispers. The cat continues to clean herself in the center of the main hall, and May stops hesitating. They’re just scared kids, most no older than Carol. Surely they won’t try to interfere with someone breaking into the place?

She rears back and piston kicks the door where the deadbolt connects with the wall, and it shatters out of its frame, ripping chunks of wood as it slams against the connecting wall, then bounces back. The quiet laughter from upstairs silences instantly, and then whispering voices rise up in their place. May has no time to worry about that. She rushes for the downward steps revealed behind the door, presses it closed again as best she can, and hopes that it looks fairly normal from the outside.

When she reaches the bottom of the steps, she finds a fairly normal basement. Pipes, perpetually damp concrete, a series of long fluorescent tube lights. Vaguely musty. A furnace currently quiet with disuse. Deep freezer. Stacks upon stacks of supplies. And off in the corner, a small room with a blacked out, plate glass window and another locked door. Only this door has a security pad next to it, and is reinforced steel, with what appears to be a magnetic lock holding it in place.

Good thing the time for stealth is already over. She might be able to kick the door open, but instead she grabs a heavy crate full of soup cans and chucks it at the darkened glass. It holds for a fraction of a second longer than May thinks it should, and then bubbles and cracks as the entire thing falls forward. She’s glad she didn’t try to simply body her way through.

Still, she knows she’s making a lot of noise, and the confused chatter from upstairs indicates that at a minimum, the mutant teens have found Princess Sneakybutt. May climbs over the wall where the glass used to be and surveys the small room. No one is inside, but there are monitors with cameras showing every floor of the interior, as well as the roof and front/back entrances. The cat in the main hall darts away suddenly, chased by Clarice and several other young mutants. She vanishes behind a wall and the kids do as well. Then May curses under her breath and yanks all the plugs from the walls as the sidewalk camera shows her things are about to go really wrong with John Proudstar and Hank McCoy on their way in, looking grim.

May shuffles through the room, lifting the plate glass out of the way and finding the objects of her search. A bag of several pieces of S.H.I.E.L.D. equipment that May has “stolen” over the last year and handed off to Emma Frost or John Proudstar, as a ruse. As evidence. 

She gathers up the items into her bag: a magnetic seal for temporary door or window locking, a small electromagnetic pulse device that lacks the power source to operate, and a handheld x-ray device that can build basic frameworks of an interior through wood or stone. A combination of random, seemingly unconnected items, and yet May knows Emma could put them to use. As she’s about to rush out, she spots another familiar item: the taser that Carol lost from their first encounter with Thunderbird and Firestar last year. The taser that was absolutely not S.H.I.E.L.D. tech May was familiar with, but something Lawson had all the same. She scoops that up and hops back out the window.

She makes it only a couple of steps before Hank appears at the base of the stairs, eyes on her as she halts, holding a hand up. She hides the taser behind her back.

He says, “I take it that your presence here means Miss Frost’s compulsion is no longer working on you.”

That’s problematic. She scoffs. “I’m surprised you were aware of it. Disappointed, too, if that matters. I’d rather not fight you, if it’s all the same.”

He doesn’t move from the exit, and his face curls up in some unreadable expression. Not shame, but maybe regret? This is getting hairier by the second, and Hank having provisional “clearance” for S.H.I.E.L.D. suddenly seems like the height of folly.

That’s what May gets for trusting civilians.

“I’d rather not fight you, either, Melinda. However, I can’t let you take those items back. We need them for what comes next.”

“And just what would that be?” May inches closer, ready for him to pounce. He’s far too agile and strong for her liking, but if he doesn’t know about the taser, she has a chance.

“A better future for my kind. I might pass as human, but not everyone is so fortunate. Those who appear different--” He leaps at her mid sentence, and she just barely throws herself backwards before his hands can grasp her. Instead of retreating more, May activates the taser, hoping it won’t just outright kill him, and jumps back into the fray, feinting on the agile boy so that he ducks under a blow that doesn’t come, and instead backs into her hand holding the taser. Ozone fills the air, and he cries out in wordless agony before falling to the damp concrete, unconscious.

“Sorry, Hank. Should have kept fighting on the good side,” she mutters, stepping over his limp body and racing up the steps. John Proudstar waits for her in the main hall, having heard it all, no doubt.

He says, “You have one chance to relinquish those items, Melinda May.” 

May is about to say something, but the mutant teens that chased the cat suddenly cry out in panic, and an unholy slithering sound erupts. Both of their gazes dart to the stairs that lead up, where Manuel and several other young mutants tumble and jump their way down the steps, screaming about a monster. The man made of shadow also appears, running and vanishing into darkness. Where had he been?

“Where’s Clarice?” John shouts, but the panicked teens scatter.

The cat comes running down the steps after the kids, hissing and yowling as if it’s also running away. Just what the hell is going on? May doesn’t have time for it, though. She uses the distraction to charge at Proudstar, the mutant known as Thunderbird. He deftly dodges her taser strike, knocking it free from her hands and shoving her back. The taser clatters back down the stairs to the basement.

The fight is on. He glances once more at the steps where the cat chases the teens, eyes worried, and then rushes at May. A furious flurry of punches and kicks follow, with May dodging, blocking, attempting to offbalance him with a sweep of one leg, but he’s too good. His reflexes and endurance compensate for any skill she has over him. She can’t win this fight straight up, and she feels pretty certain she’s not going to outrun this guy.

So she fights dirty. He blocks a quick strike at his throat, but isn’t fast enough to deflect a shot to the kidney. He tenses up and shoves her away again, and she presses the advantage, only for him to suddenly lean into the swing. Her knuckles crack painfully as she hits his solar plexus, but where most would crumple from such a blow, he just grabs her wrist and twists her into him, lest her bones splinter.

He puts her into a chokehold, squeezes so tight, so hard. Her vision dims almost instantly, and she uses the leverage he provides to offcenter him by throwing her hip into his gut, elbowing his chest, kicking up at his groin. But it’s like he’s made of stone. Each blow receives just a grunt of effort from him and he doesn’t let her loose, chokes the life from her.

She continues to struggle, but she already knows she’s lost this fight. If she can’t even fight dirty, what hope does she have?

Then, just as May’s vision is darkening to unconsciousness, a purple rift in reality forms at the base of the stairs, jagged and warping in size. It appears in the middle of the railing, shearing it in two like it’s a plasma cutter. Inside the rift is a scene that makes no sense. Darkness, like the void of space. Floating globules of horror in the background, streaks of some kind of dark energy pulsing in the distance of that void. In front of the purple rift, covered in some kind of caustic fluid, Clarice and the other mutants bound towards the rift, floating. She ushers the other mutant kids through and falls through it herself, which snaps shut on wherever that was.

But the distraction is enough. Thunderbird’s grip eases very slightly as he sees Clarice is safe. May throws herself upward and uses her full weight coming down to flip him over her head, releasing his chokehold as he tumbles into the other mutants. She doesn’t wait for whatever comes next; she sucks in great lungfuls of life-giving oxygen and darts for the front door. The cat can get stuffed for all she cares. She bursts out of the front door into the cooling night air and sprints. It doesn’t take long for her to realize Thunderbird isn’t following. No doubt they’re dealing with whatever the hell is going on back there.

She doesn’t stop, though. Not until she’s in her car, speeding back to Lawson’s. Her cover is blown, but she recovered the S.H.I.E.L.D. tech. Three pieces, at least. Not everything, but it’s a good start.

As her pulse slows and her adrenaline runs down, she has time to mutter, “Just what the hell happened tonight?” She doesn’t know, and she’s not sure she wants to. Explaining that she left the damned cat behind is the least of her worries..

*****

“So let me get this straight,” Emma Frost says, holding the bridge of her nose in frustration while her Hellions dejectedly stand around her in the main hall of her rec center. “You let my ace in the hole escape with all the very important items we’ve been collecting over the last year, the  _ week before _ we’re going to make our move.”

“That seems to be the case, Miss Frost,” John Proudstar says. “We didn’t know S.H.I.E.L.D. had tentacle monsters at their beck and call.”

“You’re lucky I don’t feed you to something worse!” she shouts, and everyone recoils or their shoulders jump. Emma takes a deep breath. This isn’t unsalvageable. And it won’t do to let them see the full fury of her wrath. 

“Mr. McCoy,” she says, then softens her face and smiles at him when he stiffens up. “Do not worry, my boy, I know your commitment is unshakeable. I need you to take Clarice and the others upstairs, settle them in for the night, see to those minor burns. I feel sure we’re safe for the moment.”

“Of course, Miss Frost.” He leads them up the stairs, and John remains behind. 

Once they’re out of earshot--all except for Hank, of course--Emma says, “And where’s Angel tonight?”

“Sorry, Emma. I think she was blowing off steam.”

“Oh, please, John, I know she likes to roam about and get into trouble. What I don’t know is what her punishment will be for this lapse. She was supposed to be watching the cameras”

“All due respect, ma’am,” John says, “I’m taking blame. I let my concern for the others cloud my judgement.”

She eyes him up and down for a moment, and nods. “Your compassion is good, John. And if I’m being perfectly honest, I felt Carol Danvers earlier in the evening, snooping around my place when Airman May dropped by. I fear they may have been playing us all along.”

“You had May under your control, though,” John says, confused.

“We’re dealing with a--well, a woman with far more experience in mental matters than most anyone I’ve ever encountered. Her people are adept at mental manipulation and warding. Who knows what she can teach others?” She considers, and grins. “It’s no matter, though. This is a setback, but with Clarice we’re going to be able to get in anywhere we want, regardless. I just didn’t want to rely on a girl whose powers can be spotty while she’s under duress.”

“Clarice will be solid. She knows what we’re about,” John says, and Emma can’t help but feel that tickle of emotion when he thinks about her. She smiles again.

“In the meantime, perhaps we should send a message to AIrman May and her benefactor. Remove some pieces from the board, as it were.”

“Are you sure? It could end very badly if she talks.”

“She won’t. Not if she wants her career to survive. Retrieve the item and make sure it’s found first thing in the morning.”

“As you wish, Miss Frost.” He leaves the building, and Emma feels him go. This is a setback, yes, but her precious find in Clarice makes most of the items May “stole” for her redundant. If John has faith in the portal girl, then so will Emma.

And soon, they’ll have everything they need. The Hellions will have the protection they need. The security. So why is Emma’s conscience needling at her at this late juncture? She hates it.

*****

Melinda May is brought before the internal audit team for the second time early the next morning. Fortunately she had given the stolen items to Lawson, who was at this point in time considered above reproach, and would return the items as the heat died off. This doesn’t help May now, though, as they grill her about a familiar engineering diagnostic tool she definitely stole and gave to Emma Frost, which has miraculously turned up just inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. base fencing, and just so happens to have May’s fingerprints on it.

May stonewalls them. Without proof that she actually took it, they could keep her here for days, questioning her until she gives in. Use advanced tactics, stuff that the standard military would never approve. She knew when she started down this path of secrecy with Wendy Lawson and Carol Danvers, that this might happen. That it could all flame out and end her career.

Only she’s not going down without a fight.

And, to her surprise, she doesn’t go down. After their initial questioning, they start to look over her file, and excuse her. By the time she’s gotten a cup of coffee outside the interrogation room, under guard of course, the three internal auditors call her back in.

The older gentleman, with the big mustache and graying hair whose name she never got, clears his throat once she enters. “Airman Melinda May, you are hereby relieved of your duties here, and will be, effective immediately, reassigned to an overseas division.”

“What does that mean?” she asks, her skin going taut with tension at what she already knows it means. 

“It means we could go round and round with you until you slip up and tell us what you were doing with this device before it took a walk by the fence, but with your considerable talents, we have very different work for your skillset. Index Asset Evaluation and Intake, or the Welcome Wagon if you like jokes.”

She sighs. “With all due respect, just because I can fight doesn’t mean it’s what I want to do. I want to fly.”

“Well, we all have to make concessions in this life, don’t we, Agent May?” Not Airman May. Agent. 

“Yes, sir. When do I ship out?”

“Immediately. We’ll have a jet standing by to get you over to Eastern Europe on the double, maybe Asia eventually.”

May’s eyes close in defeat. “Do I have time to at least say goodbye to some people?”

“Of course,” the old man says. “This is not punishment, Agent May. Consider this an opportunity in a different direction.”

That doesn’t help her mood at all as they dismiss her. 

At the quinjet hangar, Dr. Lawson listens to it all with a grimace. May’s said goodbye to her associates on base, and Carol won’t be around for hours, so Lawson is last. After May tells her the whole story, Lawson just shakes her head. “We knew this was a possibility. I’m sorry it happened, though.”

“It’s not how I wanted things to go,” May says, “but I knew the risks. You gave me the chance to fly, and not all chances work out.”

“Yeah, but you got into more trouble helping out the kid than you bargained for. That’s on me, too.”

May shakes her head no, now. “We were doing a right thing, weren’t we?”

Lawson smiles. “I think so, yes.”

“Then I hope you keep doing the right thing while you find a new pilot for Pegasus.”

“Oh, no one’s gonna replace you, Spaceman. There’ll be a place for Goose in outer space someday, I’m sure of it.”

May smiles. It hurts to think about, but maybe Lawson’s right. If she lives through the crucible of deep cover S.H.I.E.L.D. missions, maybe they’ll give her another crack at it. She salutes Lawson, who salutes her back, and then offers her hand. Lawson shakes it and grimaces again.

“This sucks, you know it?”

“I do. But hey, wherever I’m going, I’m sure the experience I got from you and the kid will come in handy. Kicking the ass of powered people is sure to be useful.”

Lawson laughs. “What an attitude. Go on, then, Goose. Make us proud.”

“I’ll do my best. Hey, did your cat ever show back up?”

“Not my cat, but yeah. Can’t believe she stowed away with you.”

“I swear those mutant kids were scared of her.”

“She can put on a mean face, I bet.”

“You should give her a name, Dr. Lawson. Bad luck to have a cat without a name.”

Lawson smiles. “Sure. You got any suggestions?”

“I’m partial to Princess Sneakybutt,” May says, chuckling, and Lawson’s grin fades. 

She says, “I’ll come up with something, I’m sure. Something suiting her ferocity.”

“Good luck, Wendy. With everything.”

“You too, Melinda. Stay alive out there.”

Airman and S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Melinda “Goose” May salutes a final time, and takes her leave. Maybe someday she’ll come back and get to fly these amazing machines. Never say never, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a strange chapter and a kind of somber ending, but hopefully you like it! 
> 
> Next chapter: Jessica Drew! Hydra! S.H.I.E.L.D.!


	17. Death Of A Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica Drew, AKA the Hydra agent Arachne, attempts to complete her final mission for Hydra: stealing Howard Stark's research.

Carol arrives home much later than Jess expects her. Instead of late evening, it’s early the next morning, like witching hours. Jess sat up for hours trying to plan around the unexpected bar to her entry to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Whatever was going on that prevented a civilian from being there was hopefully not so bad that it would mean heightened security for what is to come. 

Jessica, Hydra codename: Arachne. Arachne’s next mission is the final piece of her Boston thieveries and she suspects the only one that truly mattered: steal Howard Stark’s research from the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Somehow. Jess doesn’t know what it is, how big it is, if it’s even something tangible she can carry away. All she knows is that if Howard Stark is working on it, it must be groundbreaking, cutting edge, world-altering stuff.

And Hydra wants it.

She sighs when Carol comes in, then gasps at the state of her. “Damn, what happened to you?” 

Carol shrugs off her ministrations and goes to the kitchen, looking for a towel and grabbing some ice out of the freezer. “Buncha dumb shit. Can’t really talk about it here, but let’s just say S.H.I.E.L.D. is on high alert for theft right now, and it’s at least a little bit my fault.”

“Seriously?” Jess takes the ice and the dish towel and pushes Carol up against the counter. “Let me do this.” Carol gives in and lets Jess tend to her split lip, the bruise spreading up her cheek. They won’t last long, but it’s not every day your fast-healing girlfriend gets hurt enough that it shows. 

While Jess cleans and tapes the split lip, Carol holds the ice to her cheek and tells Jess what she can. Someone’s been stealing from the military base for a while now, small things. Jess thinks she knows what this is referring to, but they can’t speak in specifics lest Hydra learn more about the mutants in the city than they likely already do. 

“So you got your ass kicked and you didn’t think to bring me along?”

Carol harrumphs and a slight redness creeps up her face. “I needed someone with a fast car, in case it got chasey.”

“Chasey?”

“Yeah, vroom vroom. Ach.” Jess pulls her finger back and Carol sighs. “Guess I don’t bruise easy, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting.”

“And what makes you think my car wouldn’t do in a chase?”

Carol deadpan stares at her. “Unless it’s some kind of incognito Bond car, I needed some muscle. Well, I guess I didn’t after all, but I wanted to be prepared.”

“Muscle sounds like you called Tony.”

“And got some Air Force brats along for the ride.”

“You got a whole team going on missions with you now?”

“Yeah, we’re a regular Justice League.”

Jess smiles. “If it helps, you’re definitely  _ my _ Wonder Woman.”

“It does, you doofus. How does this affect your, uh, plans?” Carol asks, stripping off her leather jacket now that she’s been tended to. She searches Jess’s fridge for food and finds old takeout, tosses it in the microwave, and yawns.

Jess says, “I don’t know, yet. If they won’t let me on base until this audit is over, or worse, decide I’m suspicious, it could pop the balloon before it ever gets blown up.”

“Colorful analogy.”

“Shut it.” The microwave beeps and Carol eats Jess’s leftovers, lo mein noodles. Jess would be mad, but they weren’t good when they were fresh. Hard to find good Chinese food in Boston. “I’ll call Susan in the morning and see if we can reschedule.”

“What about the alternative plan I offered?” Carol asks with a mouthful of noodle. Why does even that look adorable on this girl?

The plan Carol offered is not one Jess will contemplate. Not yet anyway. Telling S.H.I.E.L.D. that Hydra is alive and well, that Jessica is an active spy for them, and that they know Howard’s working on something big? No way. Not a chance in hell is she putting everyone she knows and loves in danger from that Bullseye creep. Not even her mother.

She shakes her head. “We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

Carol lets out a little burp and grabs a drink of water after the food is gone. “Suit yourself. Why are you still up? Did you have another mission tonight?”

“The mission of waiting for my girlfriend,” Jess says, sighing dramatically and pulling Carol to her. “You’ve only been here a little while, but the bed gets lonely.”

“I don’t see how, it’s so tiny.” Carol smirks and kisses Jess. She tastes of old lo mein and yet nothing has ever been better. When Carol lets Jess go, Jess heaves a sigh. 

“Everything’s so messed up.”

“Not everything.”

“You know what I mean. Somehow we’re stuck in the middle of a grudge match between two clandestine organizations. I’m responsible for that scientist’s death, and if I don’t do what the skull guy says, you’re in danger.”

“Hey,” Carol says, pulling Jess in closer and hugging her tight. “No one’s gonna take this away. I won’t let them, and I’m kinda strong, you know.”

Jess chuckles at the bad joke. “I bet I’m stronger.”

“You think so? More than these guns?” Carol flexes, which Jess admits is pretty impressive in her tee shirt. Small, tight muscles pop out on her arms. 

“Yeah, but how many ways do you know to kill a man?” Jess asks.

Carol’s flirting grin falls away. “Have you used many of them?”

Oh. That’s the wrong pivot in their cutesy conversation. She frowns. “I’ve never killed someone intentionally, or in combat, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Carol shrugs. “I guess I didn’t want to ask that.”

“Afraid of the answer, or that I’d lie about it?”

“Neither, really. Honest, Jess.” Carol grabs her shoulders and looks into her eyes. Jess fights the urge to look away from those gorgeous blues, afraid of what she’d see in them. Carol says, “I didn’t want you to think I was thinking about it.”

Jess scoffs and shrugs Carol’s hands away. “Because what else does one think about when their girlfriend works for an evil criminal syndicate.” The hurt in Carol’s eyes is enough to make Jess regret her words instantly. “I didn’t mean that,” she says.

“It’s okay, Drawed. I’ve said it a hundred times and I’ll say it a million more. Nothing’s coming between us. Not again, not ever.”

Jess smiles, fighting the tears that want to pop out. “I know. I do, I really do. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Care Bear.”

Jess hugs Carol again. This is what matters, right here. The rest is just details. Ephemera. Carol and Jess against the world. So why does every moment with Carol feel like it might be the last?

*****

Jess calls Johnny Storm the next morning when her call doesn’t go through to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base because of tighter restrictions and no civilians permitted. Johnny answers, sounding groggy, and Jess checks the clock, wondering why he’s still asleep past ten.

“Not really becoming of a star athlete, sleeping ‘til noon,” she teases.

He scoffs over the phone and says, “Who is this?”

“A girl who fought death and won.”

A moment passes and then Johnny says, “Jess?”

“Got it in one. I’m trying to reach your sister, but something’s going on at her--at her work.” So hard to have conversations with people when your every conversation is being listened to.

“She told me there was an audit or something.” Johnny clears his throat and his voice cracks as he wakes up more fully. “Want me to give her a message?”

“I was supposed to see her for a check-up yesterday, just trying to reschedule.”

“Uh huh. Yeah, okay, I’m writing it down right now. Definitely got my pencil here and making a note.”

“Don’t be an ass, Johnny, this is important.”

“Hey, I’m a--what’s it called--a pilgrim of truth these days.”

Jess laughs. “A pillar of virtue?”

“I’ve been awake for thirty seconds, leave me alone.”

“Seriously, Johnny, I need you to get the message to her today.”

“Okay, okay. Are you dying again or what?” He seems to realize this is a shitty question and says, “I mean, I hope not. You’re not, right?”

“Best shape of my life, Storm.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t think anyone can handle your girlfriend if you’re out of the picture again.”

“Likewise, my dude. Get the message to your sister, and stay outta trouble. That’s kinda your thing now, right?”

He laughs. “Not even a little bit. Now I’m just getting in federally-funded trouble. Did Carol tell you I’m maybe tagging along with the science geeks into outer God-damned space?”

“She did, with no fewer than three swear words directed at you. If you go to space before she does, you better stay there, cause she’ll kill you when you get back.”

“I’ll keep a seat warm for her up there. Taking the universe by Storm.”

Jess scoffs at his bad joke. “How many people have you said that one to?”

“You, Sue, Hank and his mutant pals, pretty much everyone at the prom, Reed and his buddy Ben back in New York. Anyone who’ll listen, really.”

“The more things change,” Jess quotes.

“Uh huh. Look, I really am writing it down. She got your number to call you back?”

Jess gives him the number just in case, and hangs up after goodbyes. Jess never really had the same trouble with Johnny that Carol did, but even now Jess admits that he’s different. Still ornery and self-absorbed, but the mean streak he was cultivating in high school is gone. 

Her thoughts get interrupted when the phone rings. She scoops it up and says, “Hello.”

Taskmaster’s voice comes through, “Leveraging the doctor is a good move, but your skills and training exist beyond the subterfuge. Why don’t you just cut the shit and get on with it?”

Jess almost slams the phone back into its cradle. Her grip tightens on the receiver so hard she hears the plastic groan, ready to shatter, and she covers her anger. “I’m doing the job, Sir. Are you dictating  _ how _ the job gets done?”

“Of course not. Just curious why you’re hesitating. A direct approach would be so quick and painless. Even while they’re looking closely.”

“Painless for me, maybe,” Jess mutters, and Taskmaster sighs.

“No room for hurt feelings in our business,” he reminds her. “Do the job and soon. Sources tell me the research is close.”

“Can’t your ‘sources’ just get it if they know so much?”

“You don’t reveal the scout in the bushes until the war is over.”

War. Jess cannot believe she ever thought Hydra had reformed from their earliest days as a Nazi offshoot. They showed her what she needed to see, to buy in until it was too late. Too late and too many people close to her who might get hurt if she bucks the system.

She says, “I’m going back in soon. The Doctor won’t be around forever, she’s got stuff to do in New York.”

“If not, there’s always Plan B.” Silence hangs over the line for a moment and he says, “You really don’t want us to go with Plan C.”

The line clicks over to the dial tone and she hangs up harder than she needs to. Then slams the phone a couple more times for good measure. It shatters and she tosses the cheap plastic across the room. Her pointless rage isn’t going to do anyone any good, but sometimes it feels too nice not to let it out.

Several hours and a new phone later, Susan calls her back. “Hi, is this Jessica Drew? It’s Dr. Storm returning your call.”

“It is Jessica, Dr. Storm. I hope I didn’t, like, breach any protocols or whatever by calling your brother.” She adopts her schoolish naivete and casual way of speaking among friends.

“It’s irregular, but you were schoolmates. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you yesterday, there was a bit of activity here that had us all occupied.”

“So it seems. It’s weird to be turned away at the gates. Can’t say I like it.”

“Rejection is often difficult, Miss Drew. You’ll forgive me if I’m curious: you weren’t keen on a second exam when last we saw each other. Have you exhibited additional sickness or symptoms that prompted this urgency to come back in?”

Oh, yeah. That doesn’t look good, and especially won’t if Stark’s research goes missing the same day she basically begged to be on base. She says, “I--it’s not that. Not sick, not like I was before, but I’ve felt a little odd, and I didn’t want to press my luck. My mother thinks it’s a good idea I get checked out by someone with your expertise and credentials. I knew you were leaving soon, so I was just trying not to disappoint anyone.” She laughs to play it off. “If it’s not a good time for you, though, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Dr. Storm tuts at her. “Nonsense. I’ve already approved you for an additional visit now that our internal audit is coming to a close. Johnny and I are due back in New York in less than two weeks, so I hope you can make it back here a week from today.”

“If it gets worse before then?” Jess asks.

Dr. Storms sighs with longsuffering. “I don’t make house calls, but your circumstances are unique. You should both arrive early on the day, so that any security dealings can be handled.”

“Both?” Jess asks, confused.

“You and your mother. You will recall I said she needed to be present for any future examinations, as you are still a minor.”

“But what if she doesn’t pass the clearance checks?” Jess asks, scrambling for reasons not to bring Miriam.

“Your mother’s clearance is old, but she has provisional clearance higher than I do, my dear. I’ll see you both in a week.” Dr. Storm doesn’t wait for Jess to protest further, by hanging up. It takes everything Jess has not to break the phone a second time in the same day.

“Guess I’m going to see Miriam.” Her fist glows a soft green with unspent anger. Carol comes out of the bedroom, towel-drying her hair from a quick shower after work, and sees Jess’s anger.

“Everything all right?” she asks, taking a seat across from Jess at the kitchen table.

“Not even a little bit, Carol. I, uh, need a favor.”

“Sure. Who was that on the phone?”

Jessica hesitates. “Dr. Storm. I have a rescheduled appointment.”

Carol’s shoulders slump. “So is it happening?”

Jess nods. “A week from today.”

“And you’re sure there’s not another way?”

Jess stands and paces. “The other ways are a little more aggressive than I like.”

Carol sighs and stands as well, dropping the towel on the kitchen counter. Normally she’d be a snack right now for Jess, all fresh and clean, but Jess’s nervousness takes over and she can’t concentrate on the good aspects of this night.

Carol blocks Jess’s pacing. “You know that what you’re talking about could get us both killed, right?”

Jess nods. “I know. But--”

“And if I thought there was a way out of this, you still wouldn’t take it, would you?”

“It would have to be airtight. You haven’t seen the other guy. He could get to us anywhere, at any time. I have to do this.”

Carol shakes her head. “We have to do this. I’m not letting you risk it alone. What do you need me to do?”

Jess’s heart beats faster for this girl. This amazing, frustrating, beautiful girl who is ready to challenge everything she knows and believes in, if it’ll get Jess clear of trouble. Even betray her mentor. Even betray her country.

Jess shouldn’t have to ask Carol for this. But she doesn’t know how else to do it. She asks the favor, and Carol nods her agreement. It’s risky, but she agrees. Jess pulls Carol close, holds her still-damp hair in one hand while their cheeks touch in a delicate embrace. Carol would do anything for Jess, and Jess would do anything for Carol.

Well, they’re about to test that theory, aren’t they? 

She whispers, “I don’t deserve you, Carol Danvers.”

“Sure you do, ya doofus.” She shifts and kisses Jess’s cheek, and Jess chuckles. They deserve each other, right? This is the right thing to do, isn’t it? Get the tech, get clear of Hydra, get the girl, and live your life.

She can do this. They can do this.

Miriam and Jessica sit in Dr. Storm’s office, waiting for the woman to arrive. Their conversation was ugly, their argument uglier, but Miriam agreed to be here for Jessica. Jessica doesn’t know what to think of that, but it hasn’t ingratiated her in Jess’s book. She doesn’t know what will cool this burning ember of betrayal inside her, but being in the same room, pretending to be a loving mother and daughter, is not it.

Jessica grabs a small notepad off the desk and scribbles onto it before handing it to her mother. Miriam reads the note, eyes wide, and opens her mouth to say something, but Dr. Storm interrupts by walking in the door, rubbing at her temples as though she has a stress headache.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, the life of a physician is often dull but never efficient.” Miriam tucks the note inside her jacket packet while Jessica laughs at the joke.

“No problem, Dr. S. This is mostly just a formality anyway, right? I’ll throw up those star athlete numbers and we’ll be out of your hair in no time.” She pointedly doesn’t look at her mother at all, and she sees her mother merely nod from her peripheral vision.

“Well, that’s the spirit; hopefully the reality backs that up,” Dr. Storm says. She takes a seat and drinks from a cup of tea that came in with her. “Did my assistant have you fill out the usual forms?”

Miriam hands over the forms, and Dr. Storm looks them over with an uncritical eye as she relaxes for a moment. “Not that these are going to tell us anything useful. On paper, even at the height of your illness, if you were having a good day, very few tests would dictate otherwise. Such an unusual radiation poisoning. You’re very lucky, Jessica.”

“Uh huh,” Jess says. “Look, I’m not trying to be the rushy rushy one here, but I kind of have plans with Carol later and I’d like to get this over with.” If she seems impatient, she’ll have an easier time being angry in a little bit, when she needs it.

“Jessica, that’s no way to speak to the only doctor with the experience to evaluate you,” Miriam says.

“I hear worse from Carol. I’d make some comment about teens and no respect these days, but let’s be honest, it’s only these teens.”

Miriam laughs and Jess huffs. Doesn’t matter what they say, so long as they get started soon. 

They convene in an examination room, and Jess changes into a hospital gown she’s all too familiar with in her years with debilitating illness. Miriam keeps trying to catch Jessica’s eyes, but Jess refuses to meet them. Just do your part, Miriam. Please, if you have any love at all for me, do your part.

The standard tests go as expected. Her breathing is strong and her oxygen levels are solid. A deft swap of her blood sample while Dr. Storm’s back is turned making notes on a chart reveals nothing out of the ordinary in her blood tests. Her reflexes are good but not great, totally average, which she struggles to make happen because her reflexes are so very good now. All the standard battery of tests are fine, normal, excellent.

She’s the picture of health. Exactly as she wants it to appear. When Dr. Storm is finished with this part, she leaves the room while Jess changes into the exercise shorts and sports bra for the physical fitness tests.

Miriam wrings her hands nervously while Jess changes behind a screen, her head popping out above it. Miriam whispers, “Jess, are you sure about this? This is a very dangerous path.”

“Shut up, Mom!” Jess hisses. “I’m sure and you’re gonna do this, or we might have a very uncomfortable conversation with the good Susan Storm when she comes back in.”

Miriam’s eyes become hard despite the tears that are flooding up. “I don’t know what happened to you when you were with Jonathan, but I’m so sorry I didn’t go with you. To stop it from happening.”

Jess finishes pulling her athletic outfit on and comes around the screen. “I was given a choice, and if you were there, it would have been easier. Not harder.”

“Just because you want to hurt me doesn’t mean you can, dear.”

“Jesus Christ, Mom, just do what I asked you to do or get the fuck out.”

Before Miriam can respond, Jess throws open the door, which startles Dr. Storm on the outside. “Oh, that was fast.”

“Call me Sonic the Hedgehog,” Jess says, and realizes neither adult woman has any idea what that means. “Uh, Road Runner over here?”

“Ah, pop culture references,” Dr. Storm says. “Well, we shall see, won’t we? Come along, we’ll do your calisthenics, cardio, weight training, the full gamut.”

This is where Jessica’s plan begins in earnest. She stretches and lifts, careful not to lift more than she could before her treatments, and her breathing becomes heavy after a couple minutes of various lifting exercises. She feels no exhaustion, but she spent years hiding it and this is just the inverse now. Appear to be tiring instead of the other way around.

She wipes at the lack of sweat on her forehead as she stands on the treadmill and begins to walk, then jog, then run. She flags and holds her side a bit before she stops running altogether, falls off the treadmill backwards, and collapses to the ground in what she hopes is not an exaggerated fall. 

Miriam and Dr. Storm rush to her side, help her to her feet. She lets them assist, and exaggerates her ragged breathing and her sudden weakness. She mumbles, “I don’t know what happened. I was fine one second, and the next I was on the ground.”

They get her into a chair and Dr. Storm takes her vitals again while Jess lolls her head in what she hopes is convincing sickness.

“Is she okay, Dr. Storm?” Miriam asks, her voice trembling. That’s good, Mom. Make her believe it.

Dr. Storm shakes her head. “Her pulse is fine and her breathing seems okay. Has this happened at all since your treatments were complete?”

Jess frowns, and shakes her head no. “Could I get some water? I just feel dizzy.”

Dr. Storm calls for water from her nurse assistant and uses her pen light to examine Jessica’s eyes again. Her brow creases with confusion. “Curious. Your physiological responses are as expected. But your illness was so strange to begin with, it’s impossible to know what symptoms we might see return.”

“I’m fine,” Jess says, waving her hand and pretends to falter when she goes to stand. “Maybe not, whoa. There weren’t spots on the wall before this, were there?”

Dr. Storm glances at the walls and says, “No, Jessica, there weren’t. We should take you back to the lab and run some tests. Tox screens, MRI, the works.”

“Ugh, no.” She leans back and glares at Miriam while Dr. Storm is reviewing her chart.

Miriam plays her part. “Honey, it’s just a precaution. You’ve been so well since you came home, and I’m sure Dr. Storm only wants to make sure you stay that way. Susan, just a single night for observation?”

“One night would suffice, I think.” Dr. Storm nods at Jessica. “You better cancel your plans.”

“God I thought I was done with all this,” she whines, but subsides. The first part of the mission is successful. She’s in, and she’s admitted as a weak patient.

The rest can follow.

Except Dr. Storm offers to let Miriam stay overnight with her daughter. Shit.

Miriam smiles and accepts, and puts a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. 

Jess wants nothing more than to zap her with a little Venom Blast, but she holds it in. Has to hold it in. If Miriam wants to be a part of this, she damn well better get used to the idea of pulling a heist on a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility real quick.

After more tests and an insistence from Miriam that more blood did not need to be drawn, Jessica finds herself in the unenviable position of a hospital bed in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, wearing a hospital gown again, back exposed. Even feigned weakness makes Jess feel all her old hangups about her illness, being stuck in bed, knowing she would die soon. Even now knowing she won’t, all those old haunts settle into her bones and she can’t help feeling like this was all a strange fever dream before the end.

And wouldn’t it make sense? Carol’s an alien, Jess has super powers, they love each other and barely anything bad has happened as a result of it. Wishful thinking of a diseased mind clutching to whatever happiness it can find.

Only that begs the question of why she’d be tied to Hydra, why her mind would conjure all this darkness even at the end when she seeks only the brightness of unrequited love.

No, this is all painfully, wonderfully real, and she could lose everything tonight. If she doesn’t pull this off, or if she gets caught, or even gets seen out at night. It was hard enough asking for the favor that smuggled in the device that would aid her tonight, let alone getting back out with whatever Howard Stark’s research is.

Miriam returns to the room after a parent to doctor conversation, eyes cloudy with unshed tears. She’s selling it well, which is good. “Preparing you for the ‘out of remission’ possibility?” Jess asks.

Miriam nods as she sits down in the chair next to the bed. “Something like that. Is all of this really necessary, Jessica?”

Jess ignores that. “We need to talk about what happens next. Is she gone for now?”

Miriam shakes her head no. “She’ll come back towards the end of the day to check on you and leave instructions for your overnight care. Her bedside manner leaves something to be desired.”

Jess snorts. “She’s just preoccupied with her own stuff. Now listen, here’s what’s going to happen.” Jess explains in whispers the strategy for tonight, as much as Miriam needs to know, and Miriam’s frown lines deepen the longer she talks. “There’s no room for argument here, okay? I need you to do this, and if you can’t or won’t, I’ll figure it out without you.”

“I’ll do it, Jess. Of course I will.” Good. Why is it so easy to feel better when her mother acquiesces? In a more conversational tone, Miriam says, “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about how you and Carol are getting on?”

Jess’s face turns beet red in an instant. “Definitely not having that conversation with you like this is some normal mother/daughter thing.”

Miriam smiles, though. “Oh, come on. We’ve got some time to kill. I honestly thought we wouldn’t get to do this because of--well, because.”

“No thanks to someone in this room,” Jess mutters, but she realizes she does want to talk about Carol. And the time is going to stretch into infinity if they just sit here in silence. “I wonder if they still have my book from last year.” She looks around, but of course there’s nothing. Not a real hospital, but they’re not negligent. 

“I know you went to prom,” her mother says. “Did you get any pictures?”

“Loads. I was the most important thing in the room until Hank showed up with a mutant. Then I hung out with them and I’m sure there’s more pictures of that.”

“I heard about the X-Gene kids. We really shouldn’t be calling them ‘mutants’ you know.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. One of them tells me they’re a mutant, I’ll call them a mutant until one of them tells me to stop.”

Miriam nods, stymied. “Fair enough. I’d have liked to see you all dressed up. Did you and Carol go as a couple?”

Jessica crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You ever heard of a beard?”

Miriam’s eyes narrow. “Yeeesss? Am I missing something?”

“So no. Our friend Tony was a beard, masking the lesbians by pretending to be Carol’s date.”

“What novel terminology,” Miriam says. She’s trying, and Jess hates her more for trying. “Tony, as in the one whose father--”

“Yeah, the same. Don’t bring it up. Don’t talk about it.”

Miriam nods. “You’ve gotten quite complicated in the year you were gone, you know it?”

“Life is complex and then you get lightning fists,” Jess jokes. Miriam laughs a little, and Jess smiles. No, damn it. She’s the cause of a decade of misery. She doesn’t get off this easy. Jess wipes the grin away and looks elsewhere.

“And you’ve got your own place in the city, is she staying with you? Her mother called looking for Carol the first night she was--kicked out.”

“Yeah, Mom, Carol and I are living in several kinds of sin.”

“You’re both almost adults. I can’t stress how happy I am despite everything, Jessie.”

“Why don’t I believe you when you say it?” Jess asks. She looks back at her mother again, and hates that her genuinely sorrowful expression twists her heart. This is her mother. And she’s in pain.

“I can’t answer that for you. All I can do is keep saying sorry ‘til you believe it.”

“Well, you better be prepared to lose your voice.”

“If that’s what it takes.” Damn her. Damn her and stupid insistence on being a loving mother.

Hours. Hours to go. Jess wants to scream, but she can do this. Hell, she’s a secret agent, a spy. She can pretend not to hate her mother for that long.

Dr. Storm returns for her final checkup of the day, wishes them both well, and heads out for the evening. Dinner is brought to them both, and they eat quietly of something not much better than school cafeteria lunch. The time passes. Miriam finds a deck of cards and they play two-player games. 

It’s not terrible, no matter how much Jess tells herself it is. 

Finally, the evening arrives in its full fall darkness, and the medical wing grows even quieter than before. There are no active patients besides Jess right now, and the nurse seems to take offense at Jess’s presence. Not her usual night shift? That’s useful, maybe she’ll doze. When the final rounds of the night have come and gone, the nurse not scheduled to make rounds for another few hours, and the base outside the medical wing all but completely shut down for the night, Miriam nods at Jessica.

They switch places and Miriam puts on the hospital gown, pulls her hair back so it looks less long to match Jess’s short, blonde curls, and gets under the covers of the bed. Jessica dresses quickly in the only clothing she had with her, mostly black and dark blue. She’d love to have her new suit, but getting that thing on base was out of the question.

Instead, she settles for cat burglar. She situates some pillows and the spare blanket on the couch that’s also in the room to make it look like her mother is asleep there, and turns to look at the woman doing her this monumental favor. Who is risking a lot so Jessica can go steal from the government.

“Mom?” Jess whispers.

“Yeah, Jessie? Second thoughts?” The room is darkened, but she can see the hopefulness in her mother’s face.

“Always, but here I go anyway. If I’m lucky, I’ll be done in no time, and be back before the nurse is even supposed to make the rounds.”

“Good luck,” Miriam says.

“You too, ‘Jessica’.” She smiles and listens at the door. Silence on the other side, and with her enhanced hearing she knows that extends quite a ways.

She cracks open the door, eyes scanning the dimmed hallway for the camera she knows is somewhere nearby. It swivels back and forth, and in the bare few seconds it is pointed away from her door, she slips out into the hallway, eases the door shut, and climbs up the wall so that she’s above the arc of the camera’s viewing position. She clings to the ceiling with all four limbs, adrenaline ramping up as it always does when a mission begins.

She hates Hydra, but she definitely loves the thrill of sneaking around. Not something she’d have ever known about herself, otherwise. 

She navigates through the medical wing, primarily wallcrawling to avoid cameras, and spots the nurse watching a small TV at the nurse’s station. She is in fact struggling to stay awake. Good.

The Hydra agent known as Arachne steals into the night, unobserved and silent. It’s a little chilly outside, but not so much she can see her breath. Every little bit helps. She sneaks around the building, orienting herself for the mad dash across the tarmac, and sprints away. If she had her suit, she could glide on the breeze above all this, not so high that radar would catch her, but high enough that eyes and lights on the ground wouldn’t find her, either.

Patrolling military vehicles pass in the distance, and she avoids anywhere a camera could conceivably catch her while out in the open. Once she has to duck underneath a parked car as a patrol moves too close, its lights threatening to pick her out of the darkness. She reaches the drop spot, just outside the admin building Carol told her about, and she finds Carol’s souped-up golf cart, where she had Carol smuggle in the device. Jess finds it underneath the seat, a small credential-spoofing machine that Taskmaster assured her would get her into Stark’s lab.

A whole lot rides on this one assurance, but what choice does she have? She pockets the device and is about to disappear back into the night when the front door of the admin building opens. She hadn’t heard whoever it was coming from inside, which was probably intentional building design for a secure place like the administration wing of a government black site.

She drops behind a bush as a woman leaves the building, a sharp red hat bobbing in the pool of light shining from above. Carol’s described this woman before, and Jessica’s read all about her from Hydra. This is the Director herself, Peggy Carter. Practically unknown to the outside world, utterly infamous to the spy world. Legendary.

Someone Jess would have liked to get to know, if things had shaken out differently.

She waits for Director Carter to get in her car and leave, but instead she hears a thud and then silence. Her enhanced senses can still hear Peggy breathing, but it’s ragged, uneven.

Jess pokes her head out from behind the bush, doesn’t see the woman at first in the pool of light. Then her red hat flips into the light, blown away by the wind, and Jess’s eyes train on a body just outside the light. Shit. 

What happened to Director Carter? Jess has a mission; she can’t waste time tending to old Hydra enemies. Jess closes her eyes and turns her head away, slips out of hiding and begins to sprint towards Stark’s research lab.

And she hesitates, standing in the open darkness like a fool. This isn’t just some faceless leader in the fight, this is one of Carol’s mentors. Someone who showed Carol how to be more than just a silly punk reactionary.

Someone’s family. 

Jess curses under her breath, but turns back and grabs the red hat on her way, from where it had tangled in another bush lining the side of the admin building. She avoids the pool of light and lifts Director Carter from the tarmac, and looks for somewhere to set her down until she can check her vitals.

She settles on Carol’s golf cart, and situates the ragdoll of a woman--wholly unconscious--so that she’ll seem like she was just resting when she wakes up. Up close, the woman is elderly, and her face seems lined more than it really should be, but whatever happened to her here is not something Jess can do anything about, aside from make sure she’s safe and will wake up.

She feels for a pulse and is glad to find the woman’s heart beats strongly. Her breathing is fine. She doesn’t have injuries that Jess can see. And just as suddenly as Peggy collapsed, she begins to stir. Jessica drops the hat into the woman’s lap and darts away, hoping she got around the building before Director Carter’s eyes could take in the presence of an intruder. Jess climbs up the admin building for good measure and waits for Director Carter to gather herself and leave. Jess peeks over the roof, watches the woman’s confusion as she stands from the golf cart, looks around but not up. She situates her hat back on her head and proudly walks back to her car, where she gets in, sits for a moment lit by the dome light, then drives off into the night.

Jess drops onto her back, staring up at the night sky. Somewhere in the distance is a military plane or helicopter making rounds. Night flying? Training? Who knows. So long as they don’t buzz overhead with night vision cameras, Jess is safe. And she now has to contend with whether to tell someone what happened to Director Carter. A problem for another Jess on another night when she’s not sneaking about.

She drops off the building, careful to avoid cameras again, and sprints off into the darkness once more. It doesn’t take long for her to reach Howard Stark’s private research lab, and she manages to hide on top of a military convoy in a motor pool nearby, completely encased in darkness. The lab is not exactly unoccupied. A soldier walks the perimeter of the building, posting up at the doorway every few minutes before patrolling again. He makes regular calls in on the radio to check in as well. Jess’s window is small, but her credential spoofer should swipe her in past the security check and then she’s fine once she’s inside. So Taskmaster tells her.

She waits for the soldier to start his patrol by rounding the building, and she jumps down from the convoy, sprints across the tarmac, and double checks for cameras at the entrance before pulling her little device out and attaching it to the control panel like Taskmaster instructed her. It connects, the red blinking dot turns green briefly, which is what it’s supposed to do, and then it flashes red and makes some kind of error noise at her, loud and probably purposefully so.

She curses under her breath, snatches the device, and leaps for the wall. She just barely scoops herself over the lip of the roof before the soldier comes around the corner, weapon drawn. He investigates the error noise, looks around, calls in asking for suspicious activity, and Jess’s whole body clenches as she waits on the roof for a S.H.I.E.L.D. response team to come swooping in, ruining everything.

Only the soldier gets back a false positive from his radio, that there have been a few glitches in the security system the last couple months, and it was probably just a bug or something. Jess lets her sigh out slowly when the error beep stops, and the soldier relaxes. 

But now what? Her spoofer didn’t work, and she can’t get inside without getting caught, without tripping alarms.

Only, she thinks, Arachne is a spy, a thief, and a kickass spider-lady. Time to make use of more than her ability to cling to walls. She crawls along the rooftop, investigating. There’s a rooftop access, but there’s only a keypad from this side. She could brute force it, she knows, but then she’d be racing the clock.

No, she moves on. There’s other machinery on the rooftop, air handlers and conditioners, and one of them hums pleasantly along, creating white noise to further mask her presence.

Only that thing is connected to a vent, isn’t it? What was that ridiculous action movie with the handsome cop in the skyscraper? Die Hard. That guy got all over the place in the air vents.

She knows from experience and training that there are rarely vents big enough to carry a person, let alone hold their weight, but she has two things going for her that Bruce Willis did not: a flexible body, and a Venom Blast to short out the equipment without making too much noise.

She employs the second, hoping the green spark from her fist doesn’t alert the soldier down below, nor will the sudden uptick in noise as the fan whirs violently and then fades, slows, and stops.

Jess waits. There is no alarm. No response from the soldier down below. Nothing unexpected happens, and she waits longer. Silent alarms often trick the unwary into thinking they’re safe, that they can take their time.

Jess doesn’t know how much time she has before the night nurse makes her rounds, before Miriam and Jess’s ruse is discovered, but she has to take that time all the same. Finally, when the soldier begins whistling to himself as he walks the perimeter of the building, she makes her move. The air unit is bolted to the vent below it, and she crouches around it, gets her legs in position, and then  _ lifts _ with her serum strength. It would be faster and easier to just tear the thing from the room, but that would be too loud. So she lifts, slowly, quietly, straining her muscles to make this a protracted battle. The bolts stretch and tear their metal moorings, but slowly, almost silently. Their screeching gets covered by the guard’s whistling.

And then she has the thing loose, at least enough to shift it and drop into the extremely not big enough vent. It’s dusty and cool in the vent, cooler than the fall air outside. She wonders suddenly what would need to be cooled inside Stark’s lab, as she shuffles down a narrow tube to where it comes down to a horizontal plane, and she manages to draw her body down into it with some effort, straining the muscles and joints of her legs momentarily to fit. She’s in the tight confines of the vents, and can’t even see past her torso to where her legs are. Ahead of her the vent continues forward, and it’s only through her enhanced senses that she can see anything at all. The barest hint of light shines around a corner, and she shuffles forward until she gets to the corner, finds a sealed vent with small light shining at the edges. She wriggles her fingers free and through the sealed vent until it hinges open. It’s an exit vent looking out over a laboratory space with large computers, scientific equipment she recognizes, and some she doesn’t. Sealed means it wasn’t cooling the room, but something inside the room, she supposes.

This is it. If she can just pop the vent, she’ll be able to slip out and finish this terrible mission. But how much noise will it make? Are there other security safeguards inside if the outside hasn’t been disengaged? She doesn’t know. Taskmaster had no further intel for what to do if the credential spoofer failed. She suspects he might have planned for this. Who would believe a girl who got caught sneaking around a military base, if she started talking about Hydra? Or maybe Bullseye would just put a bullet through her forehead when they took her into custody. She wouldn’t put it past the man to somehow be able to shoot at her from miles away and still kill her.

So she presses on the vent from inside, squeezing an arm free enough to get some leverage. And the vent flops right off, swinging on metal hinges below the vent. She pokes her head out, getting a sense of the interior of this lab. No cameras that she can see. The vent continues along the ceiling over to a far wall, where it then continues down into a refrigerated unit of some sort, its glass doors fogged from the temperature differential. The unit beeps and a red light flashes on a small readout she can’t see from here. Probably not a good thing. 

Jess reaches out with her fingertips, grips the ceiling with her spider powers, and pulls. Slowly she extracts herself from the small vent, and once she’s out all the way, clinging to the ceiling, she can’t believe she fit through that. It looks so tiny from the outside.

She releases her grip on the ceiling and rotates so that she lands in a crouch on the tile floor, with the merest  _ whumph  _ of sound as she hits. 

She goes to the cooler first, to see what it’s doing and if she can make it stop. Its digital readout displays the temperature spiking up slightly, but not dangerously so. There’s a refrigeration coil attached to this cooler, so the vent blowing additional cold air into it must be supplemental, or a backup. Redundancy. Good.

She spots a folder on a desk across the lab, and crosses over to it. The manila folder contains research notes, formulas, genius shorthand she can’t parse and wouldn’t try if she could. No time. She looks for anything in the scribbles and formulas that might indicate what this is, what he’s doing, but there’s nothing except a cryptic note at the bottom of one page. It reads, “Was Steve special?”

Who’s Steve? She sets the notes aside and pilfers through the desk looking for other notes, more folders, research, anything at all. Except this desk has nothing else but a few photos in small frames. One of Stark’s wife, who is very pretty even in her advanced age. Jess has seen her in profiles from Hydra before. There’s one of Howard and Peggy Carter from probably two decades ago, both looking vivacious in their golfing outfits as they argue about something, both with big grins on their faces. Their friendship is just as legendary as they are, and Jess hopes she has even one person in her life for as long as Howard and Peggy have.

Then she sees herself in a photo, and freezes, blood turning cold. Then she relaxes. It’s a recent photo of the prom; Tony stands behind Jess and Carol in their outrageous prom clothes while they all mug for the camera, their gay little ruse that fooled no one. Except Tony’s the only one looking at the camera. Carol and Jess’s eyes stray to each other, because of course they do. And Tony’s handsome in a prep school kind of way. No one can deny it. But Carol takes all the ribbons home from the fair of Jess’s heart. 

These pictures remind Jess that she’s stealing something precious, something vital, to not just some faceless, cruel organization, but a man with a family and passions. Someone with a drive to always push the envelope, to create, to fly, to experience. 

Jess turns away from the photos. She has to be Arachne right now. Spiders don’t have families, her mother told her once upon a time. 

This spider has to pretend that was true right now.

Feeling the time drain away from her, she goes to the computer bank and tries to access Stark’s files. There is a password, of course, and she can’t even begin to guess at what that might be, and she’s not going to be lucky enough to find a note under the chunky keyboard with it scrawled there.

She looks anyway and sighs with expected disappointment. Then she remembers there’s a trick on computers she learned as part of her crash course on spycraft. The operating system has locks on files that the password gives you access to, but if she can reboot the system and intervene in the boot process, she can access the contents of the storage drive directly. Find whatever the research is so she can figure out if it’s something she can even steal.

So she pulls the plug on the computer, sees its screen blink away into darkness, and plugs it back in. That’s not good for these things, she’s told, but whatever. She tries to remember how to bypass the operating system, and hits all the function keys until all the computer information vanishes from the screen, leaving a single blinking line. A command line prompt. If she’s unlucky, this system will have some security redundancies she doesn’t know about that still block her out even in this screen.

She types commands, which takes some time and trial and error as she has to remember how to do it all. Slowly, she recalls a directory listing, and begins filtering through the contents of the drive, searching for his current project.

Listed among the things he’s worked on are curious names like  _ Pym Particles _ ,  _ Darkforce, Pegasus, Quinjet Program, Arc Reactor,  _ the infamous  _ Super Soldier Serum _ from the 1940s.

And suddenly that note from the folder makes sense. Was Steve special? Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, who was rumored to have been augmented in a now-lost process. At least among Hydra it is rumored. The world generally knew Steve Rogers as a symbol of hope and righteousness during World War II, a patriot of the highest order. Someone to live up to, to aspire towards.

Jessica accesses the super soldier directory and sees a bunch of research notes from the 1930s, the 1940s, digitized at some point for storage on this computer. A few notes from the 1950s. All in a shorthand she doesn’t recognize, and some in a language she recognizes but doesn’t know. German. An ill-kept secret that the United States employed defected German scientists during and after the war. War criminals who paid their debt by serving the needs of Uncle Sam.

Then the project is silent, dead, for thirty years. 

Until now. Again the shorthand she can’t decipher is littered everywhere in these notes, but two things become certain: Howard Stark is working to recreate the serum, and he’s doing it because of whatever’s happening to Peggy Carter.

The refrigerated unit contains the research. It’s not complete. It doesn’t work yet. 

But more than that, this is not something Jessica can just hand over. Hydra’s already too powerful and no one knows they still exist. Giving them access to super soldiers would be disastrous. Jess realizes she can do a lot of questionable things for those she loves, to keep herself safe, but this is so far beyond that. Hydra is so far beyond her initial misgivings. 

So she shuts the computer down. She’ll figure out how to get Hydra off her back, but not this way. Not when it’s Howard’s goal to save his oldest ally and friend. Not when Jess has seen firsthand the troubles Director Carter has been having. Carol would be devastated if something happened to either of them.

Jess crawls back up to the vent, shimmies her way inside, closes the vent, and shuffles back to the roof. Then, to cover her tracks with Hydra, she goes over to the actual roof access door and Venom Blasts it, short-circuiting the access panel and putting the research lab into lockdown. Jess hears the soldier down below radio in the alarm, and a helicopter patrolling the fringe of the base suddenly turns its searchlight towards the lab, heading in to investigate.

Jess rushes in the opposite direction of the helicopter and the soldier on the ground, wishing again for her webwings. She launches herself off the roof, attempting to glide without the surface area of her glider suit. She slices through the air, going much farther than any normal human could, but without the ability to catch the wind, she plummets all the same. She sucks in a great breath as the tarmac greets her with all the cold brutality of gravity. Her breath whooshes from her lungs as she hits, rolls, and recovers into a dead sprint, trusting her body will let her draw breath before she passes out.

Already the base has mobilized for possible intrusion. Lockdowns at nearby facilities. Flood lights, guard patrols, the oppressive sound of helicopter blades whirring. This was insane to attempt so soon after they were on high alert, but what else could she do? Jessica Drew, the Hydra agent known as Arachne, finds her conscience. She ditches the credential spoofer after shattering it on the asphalt and tossing the pieces, and quietly makes her way back to the medical center.

This place hasn’t locked down yet, but the night nurse is on full alert when Jess sneaks back inside. She waits until the nurse leaves to check on “Jess” and “Miriam”, and crawls back in, makes a commotion in the administrative side of the building to draw her back, and sneaks along the ceiling to get back to her room. The cameras are more active now. They seek instead of merely follow a pattern, but Jessica manages to get back inside her room, where she deftly blocks the swing of a fire extinguisher she barely saw coming, followed by surprised apologies from her mother.

“It’s me!” Jess hisses into the darkness, setting the fire extinguisher aside and stripping her clothing off.

Miriam trades the hospital gown over after a moment of panic and relief. “Did you do it?” she asks. 

“Not quite. No time to chat, the nurse is coming.” Jess throws herself back into bed in her hastily donned hospital gown while Miriam gets dressed and back under the covers, hiding Jess’s outfit under the covers with her.

Jess struggles to slow her breathing, wipes sweat onto her sheet. She adopts a worried expression as she hears the nurse coming down the hall. “Mom?” she calls out, loud enough to be heard outside the room. “What’s going on?”

Miriam sits up, playing along. “I don’t know, honey, stay there and I’ll check.”

Miriam stands with her blanket around her, approaches the door in the dark, and it bursts open as a panicked nurse steps inside, flips the light switch on. The two women cry out in surprise, and then calm visibly when it’s just the nurse.

“What’s happening?” MIriam asks, as the nurse closes the door and holds a hand up to silence them. 

She grabs her radio and says, “Civilians accounted for in the medical center, they were still in bed.”

The radio comes back, “Roger that, lock down the room, we’ll have patrols secure the server room.” They exchange orders for a few more seconds, and the nurse kills the radio before sighing.

“What a night, huh? You’re just here trying to get your body sorted out and someone somewhere’s playing games.”

“G-games?” Jess asks, pretending to be frightened. She doesn’t have to pretend hard; she’s terrified someone will have seen her and this whole thing will blow up in her face.

“Sorry, not a game. You’re safe here, though. They were after some classified research, it sounds like. You’re both fine if we just sit tight until it’s over.”

Miriam glances at Jess, and they share the briefest nod. Mission unsuccessful, but they aren’t caught.. And the real lies will begin when she can contact Taskmaster and figure out next steps. 

Jess thinks, no more Hydra. No more lies to people that matter, if she can help it. If only she  _ can  _ help it.

*****

Taskmaster stares at a grainy night-vision video while Arachne reports in over a secure line.

She’s saying, “It went sideways, Sir. The spoofer didn’t work and I had to improvise on the roof.” That much is true. The video, captured from a telephoto lens from a long distance, shows Arachne attempting to use the device and then climb onto the roof.

Arachne continues, “The roof access didn’t like my bio blast and that cut things short.”

This part is also true, but Arachne didn’t cover the vent and all the time unaccounted for inside the building. Arachne just became more trouble than she’s worth, and Taskmaster readies the kill order. He doesn’t send it yet, though. 

“You’ve made it that much more impossible for retrieval, Agent,” Taskmaster says.

“I know, I know. But I’ll get it, whatever it is. I’ll… use my friends if I have to. The mission has to succeed.” Her skill at this earnest lying is impressive, and Taskmaster laments that she couldn’t be relied upon. Arachne with a properly calibrated sense of duty over morals would be fearsome indeed.

“See to it that you do. Time is running out for you.”

“Arachne out.”

She hangs up, and Taskmaster sits in his office, watching the replay of Arachne infiltrating but not completing the mission. Did she figure out what Howard Stark was working on? Did she steal it for herself? No, that would have raised more alarms and no one would have been allowed to leave the base at all.

Taskmaster stares out the window of this high rise building, considering. Hydra being a shadow organization has its perks, and this view is one of them. He pulls a separate device from a desk drawer, punches in a series of codes, and establishes a secure link to his boss, the Hydra Supreme Otto Vermis, all the way across the ocean.

On the screen of the device, words appear. “Is it done?”

Taskmaster types a response. “The spider has gone astray, the serum farther from grasp. Permission to squash.”

“Permission denied. Bring the spider in line through consequence.”

Taskmaster considers his response. “Is it wise to leave this to chance?”

“Nothing has been left to chance. Consequence of failure.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Winter Protocol will be engaged. We must stop the completion of the serum.”

“Understood. Who should we target for consequence?”

“Your discretion. Within the week.”

The secure link drops, and the screen goes blank. This device purges its memory the moment the line disconnects, and Taskmaster places it back inside the desk drawer.

His discretion. Consequences. Taskmaster stares at Jessica Drew’s confidential agent file, at the ‘known associates’ section. A picture of Carol Danvers stares up at him. Next to it, Miriam and Jonathan Drew. Tony Stark. Hank McCoy. Johnny Storm. Maria Rambeau. Which one will draw the least attention? Which will bring Arachne in line and not send her careening away on a quest of vengeance? Which will hurt the most?

His fingers trace one picture in particular. Consequences, Arachne. There are consequences to betraying Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the two month gap between posts! Life is hard sometimes.
> 
> Next chapter: consequences! We're racing toward the end of this arc, and all the moving parts are going to come smashing together very soon.


	18. Kooliq, Consequence, and the Hellions' Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Jess plan around the ultimatum given them by Taskmaster to deliver the super soldier serum Howard Stark is developing. Emma's mutant heist finally happens and Carol tries to stop it. Kelly Kooliq's power is revealed. Jess faces a dire consequence for lying to Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Minor character death occurs this chapter. Sorry =(

_ Early 1990, approximately 1.5 years ago _

“Have a seat, Miss Kooliq.” Kelly Kooliq--bottle blonde just like Emma, roots barely showing--took a seat in a booth in the yet-to-open Ice Dream, Inc. Emma hoped its soft opening next week would go without a hitch. Fronts for illegal mutant activity needed to be above reproach in every way.

Emma was dressed today in a fine business suit with exaggerated lapels, off-white, and she unbuttoned the jacket as she took a seat across from Kelly. Mostly she had John handle the interviews because it didn’t really matter who they hired in the long run, but the moment Kelly came in the door with her gaggle of friends all applying together, Emma used that opportunity to isolate the weird one among them.

Kelly Kooliq, mind awash with anxiety even while she hid it among her peers. Not a mutant, Emma could tell that immediately. But there was something there, all the same. All her friends had the same anxieties, really, but Kelly’s was deeper, more existential. Being outed as a mutant was a whole other level of anxiousness beyond “am I pretty enough” or “is that a zit” or even “what if I fail this test” that occupied the majority of her friends’ minds. Though Kelly was not a mutant, she certainly thought she might be, and with the strangeness wafting off her, Emma found it hard to argue the conclusion. Kelly shifted uncomfortably while the two sat in silence. Her friends had been sent back outside to wait for Kelly’s interview to be over, and some of them peered in through the plate-glass windows curiously.

Emma ignored them while John sat a cake cone of vanilla ice cream down in front of each woman, and stepped back behind the counter to afford them privacy. Not a mutant, but perhaps that was a convenient in to this girl’s confidence.

“Perks of the job, my dear,” Emma said, gesturing at the cone. Kelly smiled and they tapped the cones like clinking glasses for a toast, crushing some flaky dust in the process. 

Kelly’s eyes widened with delight when she licked the ice cream for the first time, and she smiled at Emma. “This is really good!”

“Why thank you, dear. We do pride ourselves on quality product. Now tell me, why did I start with you?”

“You mean, to interview?”

Emma nodded, impatient. Scraping through Kelly’s thoughts, her memories. The girl was an open book, which was further proof that she was not actually a mutant; most of them had a certain reserve of mental warding by default.

“Um, I don’t know. Was it because I was first through the door?” Her thoughts veered into other, hopeful, territory. That Emma Frost saw something in her, a potential. Bright and cheerful, charismatic, spunky, all the things an ice cream girl should be. Emma felt almost bad for the girl. Sure, she was all those things a little, like a puppy is cute.

“Let’s just say I knew you were the unique one in your group.” At the same time, Emma slipped a mental command into the girl’s mind, rooting her to the seat. “Like calls to like, after all.”

Kelly Kooliq’s eyes widened in surprise and fear, filling with tears that weren’t allowed to spill. “What--what is this? I can’t move.”

Emma reached out to the girl, took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “This is a safe place for our kind.”

Our kind. Mutant. Emma willed the girl to say it, and Kelly whispered it, like cursing in front a parent for the first time. Emma released the hold on the girl’s mind and smiled. “You’re welcome to leave; but you don’t have to. You must have a lot of questions, and we would be very happy to answer what we can.”

John Proudstar nodded from behind the counter. This settled the girl’s worries, and Emma was very glad she kept John around. A strong, quiet presence often soothed the worried mind.

“So you’re both--like me?” Kelly finally asked. Her posture eased and she relaxed in the booth. Her friends outside lost interest with the proceedings inside the building with a gentle mental nudge from Emma, and they walked away from the storefront, window-shopping.

“And not the only ones. Boston is something of a hot-bed, if you’ll forgive the term.”

“Really?”

“As real as the calories in this ice cream, my dear.” In response, Kelly licked her melting cone and set it aside sheepishly.

“I’ve never said it out loud,” Kelly admits. “How did you know?”

“The same way I was able to keep you in your seat.”

“Your… mutation?”

“Part of it. Do you know what yours is?”

Kelly shook her head while Emma rooted around for more with her mutant ability. The mental wards that weren’t there before suddenly slammed into place, forcing Emma out. So not a total pushover. 

And that made Emma all the more curious. It was like there was a void around the girl where before there had been none. A swelling of potential, but of what?

Kelly said, “I don’t really understand it. Sometimes I think about a thing I want to happen, and then it happens.”

Emma’s eyebrow lifted. “Can you demonstrate?”

Kelly shrugged. “It doesn’t always work.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try, does it, my dear?”

Kelly shrugged again, but nodded. “Okay.”

Kelly’s face scrunched up in concentration, eyes closed and forehead wrinkled from effort. It was subtle, then--so vague that she’s not even sure John noticed it from a few feet away--a wave emanated out from her, washing through everything. Yet nothing felt different.

But after Kelly’s eyes opened and she heaved a sigh of relief, she said, “I kinda wanted this job because there’s a movie place that opened down the street.”

Failing to track this conversational pivot, but also certain that no movie theater had opened recently within a few blocks of here, Emma opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but a man opened the door from outside the shop at that moment.

He said, “Hey, I wasn’t sure if you were open yet, but I was wondering if I could talk to the owner about a cross-promotion with Cinema One that just opened a couple blocks away?”

Emma stared at the man for a moment, dumbfounded, then smiled wide and stood from the booth. “Of course. I am the proprietor of Ice Dream, Inc. and I’d love to talk business.” She buttoned her jacket as she stood, and turned to Kelly. “Suffice it to say, Miss Kooliq, you can start tomorrow if you want. None of your friends, though. This is to be a place of business, not a hangout for friends on the job.”

Kelly stood, grinning ear to ear, and shook Emma’s outstretched hand. “Thanks so much, Miss Frost! I won’t let you down, I swear.”

Emma thought she really wouldn’t, with an ability like that.

*****

_ Fall, 1991 _

Everything’s falling apart around Carol, in slow motion. First she was kicked out of her home for liking girls. Then she compromised her position with Mar-Vell while trying to do the right thing with and for Agent May. May, who is now gone. With no qualified pilot for the Pegasus ship, that whole endeavor is in danger.

Not to mention that she risked her entire internship and freedom for Jess, by smuggling in that device. A device which didn’t even work. For a plan that failed.

Jess and Carol go to an outdoor concert so they can plan without fear of being overheard by Hydra. They attend a loud and brackish punk show for Fugazi, but one of the opening acts is a new group Carol doesn’t know yet, and they’re a little bit rough around the edges, but wholly righteous. Carol refuses to plan until they finish dancing and moshing to the feminist sounds of Bikini Kill, and it’s not until Fugazi’s set begins that Carol finally pulls Jess away to get a drink and talk things out.

“Well, I know what album you’re getting for Christmas,” Jess says, smiling with flushed cheeks. She started the night with the black wig, but one can only thrash and headbang so long before the damn thing won’t stay on, and she’s back to her ever-lengthening blonde curls at the moment.

“You know you love it, too.”

“They’re okay. I just wish it was a little more danceable.”

“Dance to the beat of your own drum and all that,” Carol says, putting off the proper start of their serious conversation. She runs her fingers through her side-shave wave, to make sure it’s staying in place, and drains half a bottle of water before handing it to Jess, who finishes it off.

They’re surrounded by punks and metalheads, casuals and hardcore fans alike. The wind is light but brisk this fall evening, and it feels such a waste to ruin it by talking about how they’re both probably going to be arrested or dead before the year is out.

But Carol sighs and pulls Jess back into the loud music, dragging her behind like a balloon on a string. Jess is so agile and quick these days she practically skips through the crowd.

Carol starts, talking in as loud a voice as she dares. She has to be heard, but also they don’t want Hydra catching wind of the conversation. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“Just because I know it doesn’t make you right!” Jess may have better hearing these days, but Carol’s senses aren’t much better than a regular old human, and Jess has to practically yell.

“We need to come clean with the G-Men, Jess.”

“We’re not talking about this again!”

A mosh pit forms nearby, temporarily separating them, and Carol elbows her way back to Jess’s side. Enhanced strength has its uses. “What do you think we can do, then? We can’t steal the thing because he’s making it for Peggy. If you take it, whatever’s wrong with her is going to get worse!”

That was a punch to the gut, when Jess told Carol that one of her mentors was very sick. Maybe not the most important one at this point, but Director Carter gave her a chance when she had very little reason to. And kept giving her chances. Without Peggy, Carol might have to go back to being a plain old civilian struggling in ROTC before she enlists.

“Well, I don’t know how we’re supposed to get clear of all this,” Jess says. “If we tell them what we did, that Hyd--that H is back, H will kill us both, and our entire families.”

“So we get everyone into protective custody first,” Carol says. Even she doesn’t buy it, though.

But Jess nods. She’s trying. “Even if we get your family, and my mom, to safety, what about our friends? What about my dad? They have him locked away across the ocean.”

“I don’t know, but Jess, this is just the biggest grave we’re digging. You can’t get out by digging down.”

Jess scoffs. But she grabs Carol and pulls her close, forehead to forehead in an intimate embrace. Some of the punks in the crowd wolf-whistle and some yell things like “Hell yeah!”, but no one makes a huge upset about two girls about to kiss.

“If you think we can get our families safe, I can’t argue. Let’s work it out this week, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carol smiles, heart warming. Both of them got into this because Carol wanted to help Jess, and though Jess has been trying to do this on her own, she’s trusting in Carol. 

Jess says, “I’m going to see my mother again soon, she’s got connections, I guess, might have an idea how to extract.”

With that buy-in from Jess, Carol kisses her, and they lose themselves to the funky bass lines of Fugazi, which aren’t exactly danceable but a far sight better than Bikini Kill in that department. They’ll get clear of it. She’s sure of it. Otherwise wouldn’t Hydra already have taken them out?

*****

The next night, Ice Dream, Inc. is short-staffed and Carol is all by herself, drowning in shitty little league teams making a mess everywhere. Emma calls a few minutes after Kelly’s shift is supposed to start to inform Carol that she’s called in sick, and that Emma will be along shortly.

Emma Frost arrives half an hour later dressed down in a pair of white jeans and a white blouse with that signature plunging neckline Carol’s gotten so used to on the woman. She looks positively ridiculous and yet somehow absolutely amazing at the same time. Her platinum blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail so that only her bangs are free, and she slides an apron on before sending Carol out to clean the lobby while she takes up orders.

It’s cool outside, and sports are transitioning to fall and indoor activities aside from football, but this is some kind of last hurrah for baseball, as a relentless churn of small faces and baseball caps keeps both Emma and Carol busy until they close and long after. The place still needs to be cleaned, after all. Carol reflects that the last time she and Emma worked late together was when Emma broke through Carol’s mental defenses and implanted suggestions. 

Though Carol is now assured that this is no longer possible with her, she stays wary once the last coach and gaggle of parents takes their girls’ softball team out the door and into the chill Boston night. A part of Carol is nostalgic for the softball league, the braids, the weird socks. She wasn’t very good at it, but she never gave up even when her father told her sports weren’t for girls. Most things weren’t for girls if you believed him.

Carol and Emma are now alone to clean and close up.

Carol chooses to make the best of it, and laments the tip jar. “Even with your powers, you can’t wring blood from a stone, or tips from kids with no pockets.”

Emma smiles as she sprays a cloth with glass cleaner and wipes down the freezer displays. “And here I thought we wouldn’t make any small talk anymore.”

“We’re not cool, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Carol continues to sweep up dirt, mud, napkins, and straw wrappers. “I’m surprised you didn’t pull one of your little charity mutants over here to fill in. Was Manuel too busy?”

“I’ll thank you not to call them my charity mutants. They are my wards, my employees, and my confidantes.”

“I notice you didn’t say friends. And yet you’re here bailing me out instead of having one of them here. Aren’t you worth a little too much to be stuck in flats and wiping ice cream off your butt?”

Emma glances back at her bottom and chuckles. “Now where do you suppose the mint chip came from that it’s plastered so thoroughly on my cheek?”

Carol can’t help but grin at that. But she says, “Doesn’t change the question.”

Emma moves on to cleaning the counters and restocking for the morning, while Carol gets out the mop. “Perhaps, but I believe I told you when I hired you that if I’m going to do a thing, I am going to do it well. Sometimes that means getting my hands dirty.”

“Aren’t they always?”

Emma grins sardonically, viciously. “Metaphorically, of course. Literally, ugh, no.”

“Well, honestly, I’d have taken a sloth with a limp tonight, so I’m glad you’re still able to move your ass when we need it.”

“As I am with you. WIth that in mind,” Emma says, stuffing straws into the cylinders at the self-serve counter, “I hope Agent May enjoyed my gift.”

Carol glares at the woman. “They sent her away, you know.”

Emma waves that away. “She was trying to play a psychic; we don’t take kindly to that.”

“Yeah, well, it was a dick move anyway.”

“Language, dear.”

Carol bulls on past that. “While we’re on the subject of you being a jerk, that shit you pulled with the video footage of Jess was also not cool.”

Emma huffs in annoyance and wipes a little sweat from her face, marring her otherwise perfect makeup. “Frost can kill if you’re not careful, Miss Danvers.”

“So can the United States government.”

“Oh, don’t go threatening me when you know you have no leverage. If we play this game, you tell the world about me and mine and I tell them you’re an alien, and which one do you suppose is going to more catch their attention?”

Carol has no rebuttal to that, and she silently fumes while slopping mop water everywhere. Emma begins to cash out the register and count tips while Carol cleans and does odds and ends. If she doesn’t get home soon, Jess is going to think something is wrong, but Carol’s too mad to call ahead right now. Emma Frost just puts her in this sour mood.

When Carol accepts the handful of bills--plus a little extra she suspects, as Emma always overshares when she’s been especially mean--Emma grips Carol’s hands in her strange crystalline form, so hard it pops the knuckles in place.

“For the sake of reiteration, I have my people’s best interests in mind. If you don’t want to be collateral damage that needn’t have happened, I’ll ask you once again to stay out of my business.”

“So long as my friends are swept up in your business, and possibly in danger of whatever you’re planning, I’ll be right here. I don’t know if I can actually hurt you, but I’m not afraid to keep trying if you push me.”

Emma’s face turns up into a vicious grin. “So ferocious. It’s no wonder you and Angel get on so well.”

Carol bristles at that. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“I suspect that’s going to change very soon.”

“Can I ask you one thing, before I go?”

Emma lets Carol’s hands go and her fingers reform into regular skin. “I’m an open book, Carol Danvers.”

“I doubt that.” Carol opens the door to leave, and asks, “Are you planning to use Kelly for whatever you’re planning?”

Emma’s face collapses into a deadpan stare. “That is precisely none of your business.”

“That’s a yes. Look, I can’t stop them from going along with you, drinking your particular brand of Kool-Aid. But Kelly’s innocent in all this. She doesn’t know you like I do. She’s an open wound right now, having come out to the school as a mutant.”

“Are you suggesting I put on kid gloves?” A wry grin spreads across Emma’s face, and Carol would like nothing more than to punch it off her. 

“I just don’t want her to get hurt because she thinks you’re something you’re obviously not. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s a good kid.”

“She’s your age, Carol.”

“And yet she hasn’t really lived like I have. Like we have, I suspect.”

“Oh, do you suspect a tragic history of Emma Frost?”

“Why else would you be this utterly vile? Good night, Emma.” Carol lets the door shut before Emma can respond, but she can feel the psychic daggers at the edge of her mental wards, and grins. It takes a lot to rile up Emma Frost, and Carol is becoming something of an expert.

Jess’s apartment--their apartment, she amends with a dopey grin--isn’t precisely close to the ice cream shop, so Carol hops a city bus as she has for the last couple weeks. The bus makes a few more stops, offloading late night revelers and workers and picking up new people. Carol rests her head against the plexiglass window, watching the Boston night pass her by and lost in her own thoughts, until the bus stops at a light and a purple warbling ripple erupts in the middle of the bus.

A portal opens, one of Clarice’s, and the woman plus Hank step through, the portal snapping shut behind them. The bus driver and other passengers lose their shit and flee in a panic, while Clarice nods at the utterly surprised Carol and turns to make a new portal. She’s got bandages covering several parts of her body, and what isn’t covered looks… vaguely burned. Like a chemical burn? 

“What the hell, Hank?” Carol yells, standing up.

“No time to discuss, I’m afraid. We need to go somewhere we won’t be seen.”

“What happened to you, Clarice?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she says, grunting with effort at opening another portal. It flashes open onto the rooftop of a building, and a quick glance out the window shows it’s a nearby building.

Hank and Clarice step through and Hank beckons Carol forward. “Please, it’s important,” Hank says. “It’s about what Emma’s planning.”

That decides Carol. She doesn't totally trust Clarice, and her trust in Hank has been strained recently, but at any rate, she can’t be caught hanging out with mutants who just “attacked” a public utility. She hops through, careful to avoid touching the edges, and the portal snaps shut, leaving them on the rooftop of a random building. It’s colder up here, only a few stories higher, but the wind is free to blow. Carol shivers and zips her leather jacket up, then glances over the edge at the abandoned bus. It hadn’t been placed into park when the driver fled, and has now rolled into the intersection, blocking traffic while a police car approaches, lights flashing.

Carol turns back to the two mutants. Clarice is on her knees, cradling her hands protectively while Hank rubs her back soothingly.

“Seriously, what happened? And how are you going to explain this when it surely hits the news?”

Hank stands up, helping Clarice to her feet, and she grimaces, nodding her thanks. “Seriously, you wouldn’t believe me. Doesn’t matter, I’ll live.”

“And the second part?” Carol asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest accusingly.

“I’m not a passing mutant, Carol. You know how easy it is to lie to Emma about anti-mutant violence? I’ll just tell her I was being hassled and had to escape.”

“And that… works?” Carol asked. “Even with Emma’s mind-reading shit?”

“Especially because of Emma’s mind-reading shit,” Clarice says. “Tell her what she wants to hear, and she doesn’t dig deeper than surface thoughts to verify. Well, I’ve got more surface thoughts of being hassled because I’m a mutant than you could imagine.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Hank clears his throat and says, “We need your help, Carol. You’re basically the only one who knows… well, anything, really, about what Emma Frost is planning.”

“I don’t know anything, Hank.”

Clarice shakes her head. “We’re going to tell you what we know. It’s gotten out of hand, and after what attacked the rec center with that kickass S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, I’m ready to get us all clear of it.”

Everybody’s running from something, Carol muses. And what could May have possibly had with her that scared these two that much?

Hank says, “Carol, first, I want to apologize.”

“This ought to be good,” Carol says, waiting.

He runs a nervous hand through his shaggy hair and grins sheepishly. “I’m sorry we tried to do this without you. You’re not one of us, and I thought you couldn’t understand what we’re trying to accomplish. But you’ve been a friend through it all, and we owe you this much.”

“Hell of an apology.”

“I’m not sorry for joining Emma Frost, or for helping her with her plans. The goal of making a safe haven for mutants is admirable, but she’s planning to do something in which many people could get hurt in order to achieve this goal. And it’s happening soon.”

“I’m listening,” Carol says.

*****

It’s going down this weekend, just a few days from now. When it all comes down to it, all this planning, well over a year of it, for a simple bank heist to bankroll Emma Frost’s growing endeavors and bribe her way to a safe haven for mutants.

It feels so silly for all that buildup to be something so normal.

Though, with mutants in the mix, no guarantee it’ll be a simple execution.

Until then, Carol’s got classes, internship, and work. She’s not sure what to do about her internship. She’s not supposed to know that something’s wrong with Peggy, but it feels wrong to pretend like everything is fine.

She’s lost in her thoughts on the way to Home Room when a wadded up piece of paper bounces off her shoulder. Normally this would be just usual hallway shenanigans, but accompanying this paper ball today is a shouted slur: “Mutant lover!”

She turns angrily, trying to identify the voice of the boy who said it, but everyone’s looking anywhere but at Carol right now. And now that she’s paying attention, the paper has writing on it and she grabs it off the floor. After smoothing it out, it shows a crude caricature of Carol making out with a lizard woman. 

Great. It was definitely not going to stay in after prom, but it seems like it had finally filtered all through the school now that her senior year had begun, and the immediate afterglow where people pretended to be okay with the mutant kids and the gay girl is now over.

She should find Kelly and Hank to make sure they’re okay, but before she can do anything, Vice Principal Miller steps in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Miss Danvers, I need to see you in my office immediately. I’ve already informed your Home Room and 1st period that you will be late.”

He turns and beckons her to follow without any additional explanation. Great. She huffs in frustration and follows. “Surprised it took this long for you to screw with my school life, Miller.”

“Language, Danvers, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leads her around the corner, some kids whispering around her and others openly staring at what they expect is going to be officially sanctioned school trouble. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t run to my dad the second you saw me kiss a girl.”

“Not in the hallway, Miss Danvers. It isn’t appropriate.” Carol points at a random jock with his cheerleader girlfriend playing grabass in an alcove.

“THAT isn’t appropriate. You’re just a bigot.”

He has the good sense to at least tell them to cut it out as they walk, but he doesn’t respond to her at all as they reach the administrative offices and he opens the door for her to go in. Carol strides through, ready to listen to whatever bullshit he’s going to throw at her, threaten expulsion or detention or whatever, but she isn’t ready for her guidance counselor to be sitting in there as well, waiting patiently for them.

“Needed a witness for the bs punishment you’re about to throw at me, I see,” she says, sitting down in the chair next to her guidance counselor, opposite the desk where Miller sits down and straightens his tie before folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

“Miss Collier is here to express the same concerns I have.”

Miss Collier nods, turning to face Carol directly. She’s a mousy woman, someone whom Carol has looked up to in the past because even though she seemed like she was toeing the education line, she always encouraged Carol to pursue her goals of college or the Air Force. Today, however, it seems like she’s being the carrot to Miller’s stick. 

“That’s right, Carol. You’re normally in the top 1% of your class, but you’ve slipped to the top 5% so far this year. We just want to check in with you to make sure that your issues at home and with your friends, work, and that internship, aren’t interfering with your studies.”

“Sure they are,” Carol says. “My mutant friends have my back. My girlfriend who came back from the dead is the most amazing thing in my life. My overbearing vice principal outed me to my parents, and my dad kicked me out for being gay.”

“That’s not what--” Miller interjects, but Carol bulls ahead.

“My part time ice cream job pays the bills I suddenly have because of Miller overstepping the very clear ethical boundaries that exist between students and educators, which makes it harder to study and get good grades. My internship is preparing me for a life in aeronautics and engineering, where good grades are wanted but not necessary, especially when you have connections like Howard Stark in your corner.” 

Carol leans forward to Miss Collier, who shrinks back a little from her. “So you want to know if the very difficult circumstances your Vice Principal created for me are interfering with my studies? The answer is obvious. And I haven’t made a fuss about it because ultimately, none of you matter. It’s shitty that you’ve allowed this to happen, and it’s shittier how you tried to cause such a stink at the prom this summer, Miller.” 

She leans back in her chair now, arms folded. “Mutants are still people. And moreover, your students like Hank McCoy and Kelly Kooliq are minors, and you’re treating them like criminals just for being who they are in a place that makes you uncomfortable. So you can give me detention, or ISS, or expel me, or whatever you feel like is going to fix me. I guarantee you that my mother will burn this building to the ground with lawsuits, and Howard Stark will bankroll it. You know, the guy who owns the company who sponsors half your sports teams.”

Miller blanches and the color drains from his face. Miss Collier stares at Carol like she’s never seen the girl before, and turns to look at Miller.

Miller clears his throat and tries to regain his composure. “Yes, well, I think it’s clear that you aren’t well, Miss Danvers. We’ll put this on your permanent record and follow up with social services since you’re currently not having a stable home life.”

Carol stands up, the chair falling backwards at her shove up. “Don’t you god damn dare threaten me with that. I’ll get emancipated if I need to, but wouldn’t it be easier to just quietly ignore me and let me go about my business? I have less than a year of school to go. I’m not trying to cause trouble and I’m not running around trying to lesbo it up to all the impressionable young girls in this school. I’m not trying to cause a mutant insurrection. I’m just trying to get through high school so I can move on and get away from all this fucking nonsense.”

She storms out without letting them answer again. She’s so scared and angry that she’s afraid she’ll deck the first person who calls her a dyke or lizard kisser or whatever. But class is in session and no one is around to mess with her as she reaches the girls’ restroom and fumes hotly in front of the mirror. Her grip on the sink is white-knuckle and she’s pretty sure she could break it if she wants. But that wouldn’t help anything.

A girl with a hall pass comes in, sees Carol glaring at her, and makes a scared little noise before retreating. Carol doesn’t even have the wherewithal to wonder which reason the girl fled.

But as she begins to calm down, and is reasonably sure she won’t destroy the bathroom in a fit of rage, the bathroom door opens again and Kelly Kooliq steps through it, whispering, “Carol? I heard you were freaking out in here.”

Kelly, with her now black hair and far too naive face, whom Carol could never understand why she was so intent on befriending Carol. And it’s because she knew they were kindred spirits, even if Carol hadn’t figured it out yet. A friend Carol didn’t deserve, maybe, but she wanted to deserve her.

Carol sighs and lets her grip on the sink go. “Hey, KK, yeah, I’m just trying to figure out what might be worth doing before I leave school today, since I’m pretty sure they’re gonna expel me or something.”

“Oh, um. I kinda thought you were having a more normal problem, like you and Jess were fighting.”

Carol smiles. “We don’t fight long when we do. How are you feeling today?”

Kelly smiles back. “I’m good. I, uh, wasn’t really sick last night. I was practicing.”

That bitch. Even while Carol was asking Emma not to abuse Kelly’s trust, she was in the midst of having done it already.

“Do you know what she’s planning, Kelly? Like, really planning?”

Kelly’s eyes dart away from Carol and she stutters a little. “I--I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, KK. So you know about the heist?”

She sighs and nods. “How do you know about it? Are you helping?”

“Hell no. And actually, do not tell her that I know. It could get other people in trouble.”

“I know what she can do, so I might not be able to keep that from her.”

“Sure you can,” Carol says, clasping Kelly’s shoulders reassuringly. “I have it on good authority that if you tell her what she wants to hear and think of something close to it, that’ll be good enough for her. Especially because she doesn’t think you’re capable of lying.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Oh, come on, you’re great, KK, but you’re also kind of innocent.”

“Am not! I kissed a boy and let him feel me up and everything.”

Carol laughs. “Not that kind of innocent, ya goober. You haven’t been beaten down by the world yet. You’re not cynical like me and Jess.”

Kelly gets a super serious expression on her face. “You two aren’t cynical.”

“What would you call it?”

“Hopelessly romantic. You’re so cute together it hurts.”

“Ugh, you’re killing me, Kelly.”

She smiles again and playfully punches Carol’s shoulder. “So you know about the… mutant heist.”

“I do. If you’re involved, I’m begging you not to be. I don’t want you all getting hurt, or tied up in things if it goes wrong.”

“It won’t, Carol.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. You think you’re getting expelled today, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just… wait. Is it Miller messing with you again?”

“Who else?”

“He’s been awful to me and Hank, too. But we’re doing okay, promise. And I can help you, too.”

“How?” Is this where Kelly reveals what she can do? Carol hasn’t fully grasped all the nuance to how mutants share their abilities and their physical differences, but she knows that it’s bad form to outright ask.

“Okay. One sec.”

Kelly concentrates, eyes closed and face furrowed, and a curious thing happens. Carol can’t feel it at all, but a slight rippling wave emanates out from Kelly, through Carol, through the walls, through the universe as far as Carol can tell. And then… nothing.

“There,” Kelly says, adjusting her makeup in the mirror and flicking her hair playfully. “We should get outside the admin office.”

“What? Why?” What the hell just happened? But Kelly drags Carol out of the restroom, and around the corner to the administration wing of the building, where Vice Principal Miller is arguing with several police officers.

Carol stares dumbfounded as he is first handcuffed and then hauled away protesting, but not really resisting. The secretary and other staff in the admin area look at each other totally confused. Carol looks at Kelly with the same expression. “What the actual--”

“Just mutant things,” Kelly says cheerfully. “Nothing terrible, just a truly outrageous number of unpaid parking tickets suddenly came up in the system.”

Carol stares at her again, not understanding. “You gave him… parking tickets?”

“No, they were his parking tickets. Well not strictly this him, but  _ a  _ him.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I don’t really get it, either. But it’s fine! I’m glad I could help you, as you can bet he won’t cause any trouble until he’s dealt with that.”

She pulls Carol into a hug, and Carol hugs the girl back, still completely flummoxed as to what happened. What kind of power lets someone give parking tickets? Does Emma know about it? Surely she does. Carol can’t process any of it right now.

She goes about her day, wondering why she ever underestimated Kelly Kooliq.

*****

Jess sits outside her old house in her beat up old car, wondering if she can revive this old relationship. The amount of anger and resentment Jess held over her mother for months is bleeding away. It might even lapse completely, if Jessica Drew will only let it. Miriam was easy to blame for all of her years of sickness, but was it really fair to let it go at that? Was it really her fault, or just an easy target for Jess’s frustrations, for her need to have an easy answer to shove all her anger onto?

Jess suspects she knows the answer and she doesn’t like that it took her this long to get there. After the “failed” mission at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, Jess is ready. She thinks. 

Oh God, why is this so hard?

Jess opens the car door. She can do this. She can go inside that house, and make nice with her mother, and maybe even love her the way she used to.

And then they can get to work healing the rift between them. Work on getting Jess and Carol clear of Hydra. Work on getting her father safely back from Otto Vermis.

Only Jess realizes something is wrong the moment she steps onto the porch. It’s lunchtime, or near enough, but the lights are all off inside the house. Miriam was going to make them lunch, she had said. Had she gotten busy? Run out for take-out?

No. No, something else is going on. Jess peers in through the curtains, straining to see anything at all but shadow and darkness in the rooms. Light shines out from the kitchen, from the windows back there, no doubt. But no movement, no faint smell of pasta or sauce or whatever her mother has planned for them.

Jessica tries the door and it opens, unlocked. Her senses all scream out that this isn’t right, and she slips into the house, closing the door silently. And already once she’s inside, she can smell it. The faint, wet tang of blood. 

No. They wouldn’t. Why would they? Taskmaster gave her more time.

Unless he didn’t.

Unless everything falls apart before Carol and Jess are ready.

Unless they decided Jessica Drew, AKA Arachne, was more trouble than she was worth now that she failed her primary mission.

Jess calls out, “Mom?” The hardness and coldness in her voice terrifies her almost as much as what she fears she’s about to find. Inside she’s the scared little girl who just found out she’s got an aggressive form of radiation poisoning that’s going to make her sick and eventually kill her. Inside she’s not the calm, confident spy who creeps through the darkness of the house, following the scent of blood, praying it’s just a thick slab of steak or something bleeding in the sink. Inside is not Arache, or Spider-Woman, or Jessica Drew. Right now, she’s the girl in the hospital gown, hooked to machines and using sarcasm to deflect how utterly afraid she is.

And yet, she creeps forward. She pushes all that away and checks the kitchen. It’s empty, save a telltale pool of dark, congealing liquid on the tile floor. Something definitely happened here, and her gut twists up. 

The living room is dark, silent, and lonesome.

Jessica Drew tiptoes up the stairs, where the smell of blood grows worse. Her soul screams out, run! Run! Don’t face this! You can’t! You’ll never be the same! But her hands are steady on the banister as she takes step after step.

Finally, at the top of the steps, she can hear it. A subtle drip drip drip that could be a sink. She follows that drip, and stands outside her parents’ room. There’s something else scenting the air, something familiar but faint. Men’s aftershave? The coppery-iron scent of blood threatens to gag her, but she pushes open the door, wholly prepared and unprepared simultaneously for what she’s going to find.

And on the red bedspread is the body. Only her parents never had a red bedspread. That color gave Miriam anxiety, she always said. Jessica knows what the red is, but can’t process it in the moment. She can’t look, but can’t look away. What Hydra has done to her father she will never be able to forget. With the brutal inefficiency of a cat playing with a mouse, Jonathan Drew has been battered, broken, and left for Jessica Drew to discover. She thought he was safe. She thought they wouldn’t dare ruin their leverage. The drip drip drip comes from the arm splayed out over the floor. Jess’s gorge rises, and the cold, calculating spy that Hydra trained falls away, and the little girl so sick and afraid comes rushing to the fore. 

Vomit splatters. She thinks she’s screaming. Her throat aches and she goes blind with tears. Blind with rage.

Jonathan Drew is dead, and Miriam is missing.

These bastards only know cruelty and submission. They only know how to twist a knife. Well, Jessica Drew knows a thing or two beyond that. 

She sits, curled in the corner of her parents’ room, as the police show up. She had been screaming, she knew it. They make a big show of investigating, checking the body, recognizing that it was a senseless burglary gone horribly wrong, turned to an abduction, as the jewelry is as missing as MIriam. The other rooms have been ransacked.

The police lead her out, and she’s so numb to it all that she doesn’t even notice when they pull the body from the house in a black bag. She answers questions, but she doesn’t know how she answers. What she says. They don’t know her father was overseas. They don’t know she’s legally emancipated. They don’t know anything. She knows S.H.I.E.L.D. was curious about Jonathan’s whereabouts, but right now the police are only worried that her mother is gone.

And that’s just the way Hydra wants it.

Hours pass, and finally Carol arrives. She doesn’t even know how Carol found out, but once she’s in her girl’s arms, everything else comes into crystal clarity. The police and the social worker who arrived a while ago learn that Jess is emancipated, and as such is not legally a minor any longer. With such a clearcut case of burglary and abduction, they don’t hold Jess for questioning or consider her a suspect, though they of course have no other suspects. 

When they finally release her, she’s gone over from numbness back to vitriolic rage. If she knew where Taskmaster was right now, she’d go straight there and murder him, and she’s pretty sure she can at this point. But Carol drives Jess’s car, with Jess in the passenger seat, all the way back to their apartment in the city. In silence, which she appreciates. She needs time to think, to plan, to figure out what to do about Hydra now that they’ve crossed the line she hoped would never happen.

When they park the car on the street, Carol is the first to speak. “Is it even safe to go up there?”

Jess laughs, rueful and quiet. “This was a warning. Bring Arachne back into line. The question is, was this punishment for failing, or do they know more?”

“How could they? We’ve been so careful,” Carol whispers. Not that it would help if the car is bugged. Jess is pretty sure it isn’t, but one can never be sure.

“I’m about to get a whole lot less careful.”

“Are you sure that’s--”

Jess glares at Carol, who has the good grace to stop that line of questioning. “Drawed, I have your back. You know that. But we have to be smart about this. Or it won’t just be your dad. I can’t risk my family. Not even my shitty dad. We have to do this right.”

“Right.” Jess stares at her fingers. They weren’t shaking earlier, but they are now. She flexes and then forms them into fists so hard they vibrate, and the green energy of her Venom Blast spools up, illuminating the interior of the car in the dark of early evening. “We will do this right, Care Bear.”

Jess and Carol nod at each other, and they go up the stairs of the apartment building in solemn silence once again. At the door to their apartment, Jess listens. There is no breathing, no scuffling inside. Too bad. It would have been nice to have Taskmaster waiting. She wonders if it was the skull or the target who did the deed. It was brutal, and Jess’s money is on Bullseye as a result. That man terrifies her, and she wouldn’t put it past him to go beyond what Hydra wanted for a little extra pain. A little extra viciousness.

When they go inside, though, the apartment isn’t exactly empty. No, flashes of her father’s body stare up at her from the kitchen table. Polaroids, a dozen or more. Words are scrawled in black marker along the white space of each, forming two sentences:

“This is the price of betrayal, not failure. You have one week.” The final photo is of Miriam Drew, gagged and bound to a chair in a dark room.

“One week,” Carol mutters, wiping tears away and gathering the pictures so that Jess doesn’t have to look at them any longer than necessary. “I’m burning these.”

“You burn the evidence. I’ll burn the rest.”

Jess stares at the apartment. This place isn’t safe anymore. She will never return here. Not to a place that Hydra has touched. Never again.

“Pack a bag, Carol.”

Carol nods, tossing the photos into the sink and dousing them with lighter fluid fished out of a junk drawer. “Figured that was coming. Where to, Jess?”

“Anywhere but here. We have a serum to steal, and a few serpent heads to slice off if we’re lucky.” Carol opens a box of matches, and Jess takes it from her. “Cut off one head, and two more take its place.”

“Not particularly safe to say that here, is it?”

She strikes the match off the pad on the side of the box, and stares at the flame for a moment as it burns the sulphur before creeping down the stick. She drops it over the soaked photos and watches them burn.

Jessica reaches for Carol’s hand, and pulls her close. “Nothing is safe anymore. Least of all them.”

*****

Tony doesn’t ask questions, even though Carol can tell he is dying to. They ditch the car, all the Hydra-supplied tech, everything, and call him from a payphone. 

An hour later, he has arranged a hotel on the edge of town, using fake names and a card that is supposedly untraceable to the Stark name. When he leaves them with a bunch of takeout and a suitcase of what he describes as “girlfriend clothes”, they thank and hug him, and shut the door in his face a little harshly.

“It’s safer the less he knows,” Jess says, but Carol doesn’t have to feel good about it.

“Even so, we could have told him something, anything, to satisfy his curiosity.”

“It’s impossible to know what information you’re giving away even when you make up a lie. That’s basic spycraft. Even in what you don’t say, you reveal a lot. If Taskmaster wants to find us, be assured he can identify every little scrap of useful information even when we think we’re being clever.”

Carol sighs, chest tightening. “How did we get to this point? Would it have been safer to bring it all out in the open earlier, to S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Jess shakes her head, sitting on the bed and smoothing her jeans nervously. “I don’t think so. If they suspected we were going to defect, I imagine everyone we know would have suffered mysterious accidents immediately. It’s what they do.” Jess looks at Carol, eyes weary and scared. “It’s what I was trained to do.”

“You wouldn’t have done it, though. I know you wouldn’t.” Carol is too afraid to follow up that line of thought, though. Jess said she hadn’t murdered anyone intentionally, but Carol isn’t a hundred percent sure she believes her now. And that cuts deep just thinking it.

Carol sits on the stiff bed with its scratchy comforter, and leans into Jess, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close. “I know it’s scary. I know you’re sad and really pissed off about your dad. Worried about your mom. I’m there with you. It’s all so messed up.”

Jess scoffs, but buries her face in Carol’s neck, letting her hug and be hugged in return. Carol is here to give Jess whatever she needs. Whether it’s comfort, or revenge, or an outrageous quantity of bad Chinese food and a bottle of whiskey.

But even though Carol thinks Jess might sob in her embrace, the girl doesn’t. She breathes deeply, and kisses Carol’s neck, little needful butterflies flitting up her chin and cheek. 

Each touch is fire, electricity, but Carol pushes back. “Jess--”

Jess’s breath rushes out raggedly. “No words. I’m not on speaking terms with words right now.”

Even when life is collapsing down around her, Jess has time for sarcasm. But Carol isn’t letting her push this problem away, not yet. Though her lips are so very inviting, and the lure of not thinking about how truly screwed they are is intoxicating, Carol won’t give in.

No. She pushes back on Jess again, more insistent, knowing that if Jess presses for it a third time, she won’t be able to resist. Doesn’t want to now. But she holds Jess at arm’s length and tries to look into her eyes. Jess looks anywhere but into Carol’s.

“We don’t have to talk, but we’re not running from our pain. Too much of that already.” Jess easily breaks free of Carol’s grip by shrugging her off, and Carol lets her go.

“We can always go punch thugs in the street,” Jess says, but her body language doesn’t suggest she’s going to leave the bed. Instead she curls up into a little ball, holding one of the pillows to her chest protectively.

Carol scooches up next to Jess, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand and turning it on to whatever sitcom is playing on a local channel. Reruns of Happy Days, irony of ironies. She wraps an arm through Jess’s and locks them together as she sidles in close, leans her head on Jess’s shoulder. 

It’s not ideal, but how could any of this be at this point?

“You’re my person, Jessica Drew. We’ll get through this, whatever we have to do to make your mom safe. To make everyone safe.”

She nods. Nebulous revenge probably sounds good to her right now.

It sounds terrifying to Carol, but it’s all they have. That and each other.

*****

Clarice Ferguson--AKA Blink--mutant member of Emma Frost’s Hellions, opens a portal. It took weeks of practicing, of locating the nearest system of sewer tunnels that gave Clarice proximity to the bank vault. Of scouting the security system, of tracing its every catch point, redundancy, and camera. But at long last, the plan is in motion.

Hank McCoy has time to think that both plans are in motion, as he sent a message before they left that things were moving, and where to meet.

The portal rips open, carefully avoiding any of the sensors in the walls or the lasers that dart around the room. And oh so silently, Hank steps through the portal, boots alighting on the smooth, cold metal of the vault. No alarms, no security guards. Just darkness and stacks of cash. Hank’s physical prowess isn’t strictly necessary here, unless Clarice gets into trouble. His part was calculation, figuring out the exact dimensions Clarice needed to make the portal.

They don’t have time to take it in. Time’s wasting. They begin to fill the bags with cash. While their part of the plan is simultaneously the easiest and hardest given Clarice’s portals, Hank hopes that John and Angelica’s part is going smoothly as well. They’re responsible for causing the scene, stealing the safety deposit boxes, and drawing the eyes electronic and physical, so that Hank and Clarice can get away with, none the wiser.

And then, of course, Emma’s part. She will go into the boardroom with proof that both the vault and the safety deposit boxes have been compromised, and use that as blackmail to influence positive change for mutants with the politicians and policymakers who all seem to bank at this one storied facility.

It’s all so clean on paper, except where John and Angelica are concerned. They could really hurt security and civilians while making a commotion, and though Hank knows John doesn’t relish hurting innocent people, he is well aware of just how much Firestar loves to burn.

Hank thinks privately-owned banks are a source of many problems in this country, personally, but it still doesn’t sit well in his stomach what they’re doing. What John, Angelica, Emma, and Kelly are all doing right now, along with he and Clarice.

But Hank swallows that nagging fear as he throws a bag full of cash through Clarice’s purple portal, and begins to fill another. Clarice beside him has the biggest grin on her pretty face, and Hank fails to hide his blush. What a time to think about how he has a crush.

It’s all going so smooth, right up until the vault door unseals and begins to open.

*****

Emma Frost takes a deep breath. Years of planning have led to this moment. Changing the plan over and over with the shifting circumstances of new mutants, lost mutants, public sentiment changing and getting worse.

And today, right now, Emma walks into the secure meeting area of the storied Boston Private in downtown Back Bay, overlooking the water. Emma’s powers activate almost lazily, and the security guards on the lobby floor just wave them through; then the additional receptionist and security overseeing the meeting just lets them through with another well-placed mental manipulation. 

When Emma--with Firestar, Thunderbird, and Kelly Kooliq looking moonstruck--enters the posh boardroom with its fancy wooden table and catered lattes, there is an immediate uproar from the old white men sitting around the table.

“Now look here, this is a private meeting; who let you in here?” demands one man, whom Emma already knows is a state legislator with a track record of voting against mutant rights, when he even lets it through to a vote.

Emma flashes a smile while Firestar melts the camera cables in the corners of the room with focused fire in her palms. Thunderbird wields his hatchets threateningly in front of the only exit, providing seconds thoughts to anyone thinking about running.

Emma beckons Kelly forward, who looks nervously around the room at the shellshocked old men, and Emma can feel the girl’s reluctance and hesitation. “It’s okay, my dear,” Emma says. “We’re not here to hurt anyone. They’re only making a point so no one gets funny ideas. Isn’t that right, Thunderbird?”

John grunts, letting his muscles and his deadpan stare do the talking. His axes do the threatening.

Firestar, however, breaks from the plan a little bit. “Can’t I singe like… one asshole, just a little?”

“Only if one of them gets brave, which I think goes without saying, very unlikely.” The men in the room cower on one side of the table while Emma pulls a chair out and offers it to Kelly.

“You’re running this show, Miss Kooliq. I can plant suggestions, but you can change reality.”

It took coaxing, and practice, and a lot of manipulation, but eventually Emma learned what Kelly Kooliq’s abilities were, if not precisely how they came to be. She doesn’t just make things happen; she shifts reality around herself so that events from alternate timelines take over undesirable events from this one. 

It has limitations, of course. All powers do. Kelly can make real anything from any alternate timeline, but if it doesn’t exist anywhere, she can’t make it happen here. With mutants, true equality, acceptance, and freedom had yet to happen anywhere in the multiverse of timelines, so Emma has settled for kicking the can as far down the road right now as she possibly can. She also secretly judges alternate timeline Emma’s for not being better at their jobs.

That betterment starts here, now, in this room with these anti-mutant fellows.

Kelly nods shyly and sits down. Like Firestar and Thunderbird, she wears a simple mask that obscures the upper half of her face. She places her hands on the fine hardwood of the table, and glances up once at Emma.

Emma nods at her, and squeezes her shoulder. “Like we practiced. We’re not hurting these men, remember. Just realigning their principles so that we can be protected.”

“I know. It’s just… it’s a lot.”

“You can do it. We’re all counting on you. The others back at the center are counting on you.” Laying it on a little thick, but Emma needs this girl to do this. Everything will be so much slower and deadly if she doesn’t. For good measure, Emma bolsters her confidence with a little mental manipulation.

Kelly shrugs off the worry, and smiles. “I can do this.”

She closes her eyes, and concentrates. The waves come hard and fast, emanating out from the girl and washing through the universe. As each one touches one of the men in the room, changes begin to be apparent. The legislator’s fear turns to confidence. One man’s balding head forms greenish scales, so that he obviously becomes a very visible mutant. Another, Emma can feel in his mind, suddenly is very sympathetic to mutants because he married one, and all their children are mutants. Each and every one of these men, anti-mutant organizers all, is reshuffled and dealt back out into the universe with a different idea about what to do about mutants.

And Emma Frost smiles when Kelly’s eyes open and she sucks in breath from the effort. While the new reality settles into place, Emma slips suggestions into the minds of each man, that will keep them on the path she has set for them. To pass legislation authorizing Boston a sanctuary city for mutantkind. To fund education and centers for recovery. To fund research and development. To give her kind all the opportunities they otherwise would not get.

To give them a sense of normalcy in a world that hates them.

It’s not perfect. It’s barely even a start. But Emma Frost works with what she’s got. And right now she has influential state policymakers in her back pocket.

Now that Kelly’s part is complete, Emma nods to the others while she slips Kelly’s mask from her face. John and Angelica also remove their masks. Kelly rises from the table at Emma’s beckoning, and the four of them stand on their side of the table, smiling.

Emma says, “Gentlemen, it is gratifying to know that we have your support. The Brotherhood of Mutants thanks you for your efforts this day, and every day to come. Together, we can and will make Boston a beacon for equality and justice.” She pulls Angelica and Kelly in close, hugging them to her sides. “Know that it is through your compassion and empathy that all mutantkind will someday soon enjoy the freedoms every person should enjoy.”

The men all clap politely, and Emma can feel their resolve. It hits differently when they’re connected to mutants in ways that cannot be publicly hidden or denied.

Emma glances outside the room, which is mostly glass windows, and smiles. Carol Danvers has arrived, right on schedule, with police in tow. Time for the show to start.

*****

Carol doesn’t know how it all goes so horribly wrong. Hank and Clarice had told her the plan, and Carol had taken her suspicions to the police. They were skeptical, of course, but agreed to send a unit over to see what was happening at the Boston Private, who hadn’t activated any silent alarms or anything. They even allowed Carol to go with them, which probably wouldn’t have happened if they’d known she was a minor.

Now, though, it’s all sideways. The plan was not the plan. Carol doesn’t know if Hank and Clarice betrayed her, or if Emma hoodwinked them all, but she’s afraid she’s about to find out.

“Look,” the officer says, “We’re just following up on your suspicion of robbery. The vault hasn’t been accessed, the safety deposit boxes haven’t been broken into, no one has been taken hostage. Emma Frost is a registered mutant, yes, but we’ve isolated them from the people they were in a meeting with, and all their stories are the same. They’re gathering funds, resources, and support for new mutant legislation. I don’t really know much about the whole mutant thing, but it seems like you’re just a mutant hater.”

“My friends are mutants!” Carol says, exasperated. She realizes immediately how disingenuous that sounds, but Hank, Kelly, Angel, Clarice, none are available to vouch for her at this point, and she’s not sure if they actually would.

“She’s a telepath,” she argues, “she probably messed with their minds. Maybe your minds.”

The officer checks over a report in his hand, which Carol can see is some kind of mutant dossier on Emma Frost, John Proudstar, and Angelica Jones. Known mutants, registered, law-abiding citizens.

“Says here they got no telewhatsits. What is that, mind-control?”

Carol shakes her head. “Telepath, mind-reading and control.”

“Yeah, none of that. Enhanced senses and strength for the Proudstar guy, control of flame--whoa, really?--for the ginger. And Frost, says she can turn into--holy shit, is this real?--hey, am I reading this right? She can be her own best friend.” The cop laughs at his own joke, but Carol’s not smiling. He continues, “It’s fancy, but not mind-control.”

Ugh. Carol scoffs. How did this go so wrong. And if this is all above the level somehow, where were Hank and Clarice? 

Nothing’s going right, and Carol thinks she’s definitely been outplayed.

“Okay, look, kid,” the cop says. “Take me through it again. You say this Hank McCoy and Clarice were going to sneak into the vault and steal all the money, while the ginger and the Indian were going to steal the safety deposit boxes and Emma was going to take people hostage.”

“Not an Indian, that’s kinda racist,” Carol says, knowing she’s not doing herself any favors nitpicking a jerk cop. He deadpan stares her down, though, unperturbed, and she continues, “That’s--that’s what I was told.” She thinks. “They might be able to get into the vault without anyone noticing. Has someone actually gone inside to check?”

The cop sighs and calls over a security guard. They whisper something back and forth, and he nods. “Okay, we’re gonna open up the vault. Keep the muties out of the area, in case they try somethin’ funny.”

Carol bristles at that, but she can’t do anything about it. This is all pear-shaped and she suspects that whatever Emma planned has gone off without a hitch. That Hank and Clarice, if they stole anything at all, have made away with it safe and sound and no one will be any wiser about it, except that Carol outed them.

Only when the vault is opened, shouts ring out. A gunshot goes off. Carol wants to go see what’s happening, but the moment the shouts start, guns are drawn and everything goes into a more serious lockdown.

And Emma touches Carol’s mind, speaks to her directly, like whispering behind her head, “I told you to stay out of my business. Now look what you’ve done. Your friends are about to be fugitives, and I just bet you Firestar and Thunderbird will take pride in ‘bringing the violent mutants to justice’ as a show of good faith and peace.”

Carol hisses under her breath, “You bitch. You utter, arrogant bitch. You let them take the fall just to discredit me, didn’t you?”

“Not at all. In fact, all you’ve done is provide the patsy. If you hadn’t gotten involved, if Hank and Clarice hadn’t tried to take me down, we’d have easily gotten away with all that money. A few hundred thousand dollars buys a lot of bribes, my dear.” Her laughter in Carol’s mind is infuriating. She slams her arm in frustration, cracking the marble wall next to her, which she hastily steps in front of to cover her own hidden strength. 

The police are yelling about a purple opening that shut on them just as they were opening the vault, a weird Asian girl and a white boy vanishing from sight as the officer discharged his gun out of shock. Carol hopes they are okay, silently apologizing for getting them into this. For thinking they could beat Emma Frost at her own game.

*****

It all plays out exactly like Emma wants it to. Kelly feels bad that Hank and Clarice took the fall, but their future is secure. Boston will be a Sanctuary City in no time, and Emma Frost’s Hellions can exist in more peace than anywhere else in the country. All without being under the thumb of Xavier’s strict rules. Boundaries exist for people without power, and mutants have all the power now. She’s seen to that. And with Kelly Kooliq’s reality-warping ability, the sky is the limit on what they can achieve.

If she can only be convinced it was the right thing to do. Her mind is a bit of a fractured mess at the moment, and Emma hopes it won’t affect her ability to warp reality the next time she needs it. The next time mutants need it.

Emma does feel a modicum of shame for what happened to Hank and Clarice. After all, they were going to be good lieutenants, if they could have just seen her vision. Now they’re on the run, and Emma will have to hunt them down and dispose of them before they can ruin everything she’s working towards.

Yet, curiously, she cannot sense their minds. Almost as if they’ve learned how to properly block her. But neither is strong enough in their mental wards to achieve obscurity of this detail. Which means someone else is out there, hiding them.

Well, hidden is better than them turning themselves in and corroborating Danvers’ story. Without anyone but Carol to back up the ridiculous story she peddles, the girl is left to her own devices and thanked for exposing the criminal mutants who took advantage of Emma Frost’s kindness to try and rob the bank while Emma was securing a better future for all mutants.

Emma grins. The Hellions are going to be free to operate in the open very soon.

*****

Hank drops to the ground and Clarice drops to his side, sweat raining down her body. They have been using portals to move around for hours now. Everything has gone wrong, and Hank doesn’t know what to do. He got Clarice into this, and he needs to figure out how to get them both safe. Only they can’t go anywhere in public with her skin tone and eyes.

“I’m sorry, Clarice. We should have known better than to attempt outsmarting a telepath.”

She waves a hand and sits up, clutching a bag of cash, tens of thousands of dollars. It was one of three duffel bags they had tossed through the portal before the vault opened and exposed them. Clarice pushed Hank through it and rolled on top of him as the portal closed and a gunshot rang out just as it shut, spanging off the concrete wall of the sewer before vanishing harmlessly.

“Nobody forced me into this. We decided to try and do the right thing, and Emma was ready for it. Should have known better, I guess.”

“I hope Carol is okay. Should we attempt to contact her?”

Clarice sighs in resignation. “Probably best not to. Sorry, I know you were like valedictorian or whatever, but that part of your life is over, Hank.”

He waves a hand dismissively despite how much it hurts his heart to think of it. “Formal education is highly overrated.”

She chuckles ruefully and leans against him. They landed in some kind of park this time, but they can’t stay here long. “Maybe you’ll learn some useful tricks on the street for when this all blows over.”

A new voice from behind them surprises them, a woman’s voice. “That won’t really be necessary.”

Clarice tries to open a portal instinctively against danger, but she’s too weak. Hank spins around to see who it is, and is a little surprised to see a black woman with a shock of white hair in a mohawk, and wearing something that Carol would look right at home in. Leather jacket and pants, popped collar. Spikes on her wrists. 

“Who the hell is this now?” Clarice asks, struggling to her feet through her exhaustion. Hank helps her stand and they hold the bags of cash protectively in front of them.

The new woman smiles, and her eyes flash to pure glowing white as thunder rumbles and wind ruffles their hair. Lightning strikes a tree nearby, despite there being no rain. She says, her African accent noticeable but not thick, “A friend, if you need one. You’re invited to attend a school for students like you.”

“A school?” Clarice says, scoffing. “Sounds like a trap.”

“If he wanted you caught, he could shut your minds down right now, freeze you in place. He makes Emma Frost look like a child, and I bet you both deserve better. But first you must desire it. Where we go will not be for criminals, but for reform. For enrichment. To learn about who you are, what mutants stand for, and how to live a life that you can be proud of.”

Hank thinks that all sounds too good to be true, but he also knows that right now they don’t have many options. Clarice can only open portals so often before she wears down, and they have nowhere safe to run.

“What do you think, Hank?” Clarice asks.

He shrugs. “Any port in a storm, even if the storm is created by her.” 

“We can always portal to safety if we don’t like it, right?”

“I hope so.” He thinks about the life he’s leaving behind. About the mistakes he’s made. The people he’s trusted, for good or bad. “I wish I could have said goodbye to some people.”

“I’m sure they know, Hank. We’ll do this together, okay?”

He looks into Clarice’s eyes, and nods. “What do you call yourself, ma’am?” he asks the woman offering sanctuary.

“You may call me Ororo, and the X-Men will be glad to welcome you.”

*****

Jess worries the entire time that Carol is gone. They agreed it made sense for only one of them to be out and about at a time, and Carol had the mutant heist thing to try and interrupt. Jess wanted so badly to go there, to maybe get a chance to stomp Firestar’s ass for throwing that fireball at her, and for scorching Carol last year, but it isn’t in the cards.

No, she has to simply wait, and wonder, and hope.

A knock at the door alerts her. Her keen senses should have let her know someone was walking up to the door, but they hid themselves well.

Jess stands next to the door, wondering if this is it. Did Bullseye find her, and is he planning to finish the job? She’d welcome the fight.

She says, “No turndown service for us, thanks.” Then she immediately drops into a crouch in case they were looking to shoot the place up once they knew she was there.

Only no gunfire erupts. The door isn’t kicked in. Instead, Taskmaster’s voice comes through the door, oily and sure of itself. “If we wanted you dead, Arachne, we would have started with you. I’m not here to kill you unless you really want me to be.”

“What do you want?” Her fists glow with Venom Blast energy as her anger rises.

“The same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. What I don’t want is to have to kill you or anyone else you love. That’s too much high profile. I’m here to help you so that we don’t have to use the nuclear option to acquire the serum.”

Jess cracks the door open to see the man in his skull mask and white hood waiting patiently. She asks, “What’s the nuclear option?”

He says, “Someone far more dangerous and hard to kill than either of us, I can promise you that. But he will be set loose if we don’t get results, and as much as you may hate me, you don’t want him on your radar.”

She lets the Venom Blast energy go. “I’m listening, but if you make any sudden moves, you’ll be a Halloween decoration when I’m done with you.”

Taskmaster steps inside the hotel room, and Jess closes the door behind him. 

It can’t hurt to listen to a proposal, right? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies for it being six months between updates. The TLDR of it all is that I got super busy at work from November to end of January, working 7 days a week and killing myself to do a good job and finish on deadline.
> 
> Then I was laid off from that job I'd had for my entire adult life, 17 years. That's a career, I guess. I was drifting and unmoored, uncreative and feeling worthless for another couple months.
> 
> It's hard to know how to be a different person so suddenly.
> 
> But I'm back and writing fic again, and I'm hoping there won't be another major delay.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every other week, trying for Monday or Tuesday but sometimes it will slip beyond that. You can find updates about this and other fics I'm writing via Twitter, @rick_cook_jr, https://twitter.com/rick_cook_jr, and just generally geek out about Marvel comics with me!


End file.
